


Inside My Heart, Inside My Head

by Mossyrock



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Because they're just like that, Diverges from canon because they broke my heart, F/M, Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Mutual Pining even though they're together, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Slow Burn, Spoilers to 8.04, What they were thinking in that scene, heart-break, they deserve happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 54,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: Jaime is leaving Winterfell, but why? To kill his bitch of a sister, of course. But Brienne doesn't know that.A look inside the heads of our favorite warrior lovers during that heart-breaking scene and beyond.I'm going to give them a happy ending, because they deserve it. Eventually. A slow burn, with lots of pining.This is my balm for the wounds D&D inflicted on me, because we, and Jaime and Brienne deserved better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first foray into GoT fan fiction writing, but not the last. I'm a long time reader though. This episode (8.04) inspired me and I had to do something to let the feelings out. So here it is. 
> 
> I will go down with this ship. But not like the ships in the show. Damn Euron and his magically appearing ships with selective accuracy.

Jaime was hoping that Brienne wouldn’t discover he was gone until daybreak. By then, he’d have a good head start and she wouldn’t be able to ask any questions. He wouldn’t have to look at her and face what he was about to do. Was it cruel, to leave her like this? Yes, but he’d never been one to shy away from doing the cruellest things a human could do, to get what he wanted. Or what Cersei wanted. He knew that wasn’t healthy, but their relationship never had been.

But his relationship with Brienne? Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest either. They’d never discussed what it was they were now. Hell, they still sparred, verbally and physically. But she wasn’t at all like Cersei. Their relationship might have been unconventional, but it was built on respect and honour and she knew him in ways that Cersei didn’t. Ways Cersei never cared to see. Cersei didn’t care about his desire to be an honourable, brave knight. To be the kind of knight Brienne was. Cersei had only cared about his knighthood, and his place in the Kingsguard, in as far as he looked handsome in his cloak, gave him a reputation of the greatest swordsman of his generation, meant he couldn’t marry, and it kept him close to her. She’d used it to her advantage at every opportunity. And he’d let her, like an over eager puppy. What a fool he’d been.

Cersei didn’t know why he’d killed Aerys. She’d never asked. She’d just seized the opportunity to marry Robert and rule as queen, raising his kids to assume the godforsaken throne that had gotten them all killed. She never cared how he’d felt about any of their deaths. Had she cared about him at all? He wasn’t sure now.

He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got to Kings Landing, if he got to Kings Landing. He would probably be hunted from both sides and there was no guarantee that he’d get to Cersei, not after the way he’d left. If there was anyone who could hold a grudge, it was Cersei. He’d wounded Cersei’s all-important pride and that had gotten innumerable people killed before. There was no way of knowing if what remained of their relationship could spare even him of sharing the same fate.

And what would he do if she did let him see her? Would he try to convince her to surrender, to run away? He wasn’t certain, but he knew that if anyone had a chance of stopping the inevitable bloodshed and make her see sense, he was the closest they had. And that was saying something, after she’d almost had him killed, twice. Since then, he’d also fought with her enemy, literally slept with the enemy (though he couldn’t bear to think of Brienne that way). But he had to try to talk sense into Cersei. There was something in his gut telling him that he needed to go and while the old Jaime would have ignored it, leaving the fight to others, he couldn’t just stand by and watch everything go to hell. He couldn’t. Brienne had rubbed off on him. She’d grown on him.

He was almost done preparing the horse, when she appeared behind him. He felt her hurt blue eyes on him, but he couldn’t look at her. He didn’t want to leave and looking at her might tear down all the resolve he’d spent the last 12 hours building.

When she spoke, it wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d expected her usual fire and passion. But it wasn’t. It was quiet, even in the stillness of the night.

“They're going to destroy that city. You know they will.” She said, as if he didn’t know the shitstorm he was racing towards. He wanted to laugh.

“Have you ever run away from a fight?” He knew that she hadn’t and never would. But he’d chosen to stay in Winterfell as the others all rode off to fight. She had to know it was for her. He’d come to the North for her and he’d stayed this long for her too. He was pathetic when it came to the women in his life. He’d do whatever they wanted, without them even needing to ask.

She wasn’t happy with his deflection and took matters, and his face, into her own hands. He was expecting a slap, maybe a passionate kiss like the many they’d shared in the past few weeks. But she didn’t. She was speaking urgently, pleading.

“You're not like your sister. You're not. You're better than she is. You're a good man and you can't save her,” She paused for a nano-second, “You don't need to die with her.”

He realised with a start that she thought he was going back to Cersei. He’d have preferred the slap. After everything they’d shared, after all he’d risked being here with her, she still thought he loved his sister more than he loved her. Maybe he’d never said the words, but actions had to speak louder than words. They had to, didn’t they?

He couldn’t respond, mind racing. He didn’t know what he had wanted her to think about him running away. Maybe she’d have thought him a coward. Or that he needed to fight with Jon and Daenerys. He’d never expected her to think the worst of him. But he deserved it a thousand times over.

Then she broke his heart again.

“Stay here. Stay with me,” Her voice broke and he couldn’t stand it, “Please. Stay.” After she thought he was running away to fight for Cersei, after she thought the worst of him, she still wanted him to be with her. Did she think so little of them both, that she would settle for a man who was in love with his own twin? She deserved so much better than the crippled Kingslayer.

He took a deep breath and tried to still his racing heart. He could use her lack of faith in him to his advantage. It would ruin their relationship irreparably, but he needed to go. He just knew it. And, succeed or fail, he would most likely die. He would never see her again.

He pushed her hands from his face and said the things he knew would hurt her the worst.

“You think I'm a good man? I pushed a boy out a tower window, crippled him for life for Cersei,” She flinched away the barest amount. He pushed his advantage.

“I strangled my cousin with my own hands just to get back to Cersei. I would have murdered every man, woman and child in Riverrun for Cersei.” He wouldn’t have, because she asked him not to. Even then, he’d have done anything Brienne had asked. But he couldn’t say that, though his heart was at war with his head to take it all back and stay with her.

“She's hateful. And so am I.” He swung himself into the saddle and didn’t look back. Her heart-wrenching sobs followed him out of the courtyard. His own tears didn’t fall until he exited the gate.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered into the freezing night air, “But I need to do this. I love you.”

But it was too little and far too late. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on D&D. You can't be serious that he's gone back to Cersei. I'm not buying it for a second. He might not have set out to kill her, but if he needs to, if she's going to be the second coming of Aerys, he will. Brienne deserves better and I'm sticking by that. She and Jaime deserve love and happiness and, while this is GoT and happy endings don't exist and I don't expect them to live happily ever after, they deserve better than this. I refuse for it to end that way.


	2. Chapter 2

Brienne woke up, not quite sure why she’d awoken. She stretched, feeling pleasantly warm, despite the freezing cold that awaited outside the door. She turned to look at Jaime, wondering if he’d awoken too, but she found he wasn’t there. The room was dark, no hint of light through the windows, and her internal clock told her it was too early for him to be up and about. He might have needed a drink or to relieve himself, but something felt wrong. Brienne was a fighter and lived purely because her gut instinct was finely tuned and rarely led her astray.

She padded across the overly heated room, a concession for Jaime, the soft southern knight. He’d travelled all over the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, but he just couldn’t get used to the cold. She wondered idly how he would fare on Tarth. When the sun was shining, the waters sparkled, and one could walk around without any of the layers she’d become accustomed to. In the winter, the winds off the ocean could get so cold that she was looking forward to taking back her new furs she’d acquired in the North. She shook off the idea of Jaime ever setting foot on her island home. He was clearly going to stay in Kings Landing, once all was said and done. He belonged there.

Her heart stopped and her instincts proven correct when she noticed that his armour, his sword and all his things, that had been so casually strewn about her room these past few weeks were now gone.

She slipped on one of her coats and ventured into the frigid night air. The silence was eerie. With all the men off to fight in the South, recovering from the fight against the dead, or rebuilding the castle during the day, the night guards were much fewer than Brienne felt comfortable with. But there was nothing she could do about it, but trust that she and everyone left could defend the castle should it come to that.

She shivered but wasn’t entirely sure it was because of the icy chill. Before she could think about it, her feet were guiding her to the courtyard. And there he was, struggling to pack his horse with his one good hand. She wanted to offer to help, but it was clear that he wasn’t just going for a late-night ride. He was leaving. Leaving Winterfell and leaving her. She was surprised by how unsurprised she was. She’d borrowed him and it seemed her time with him was finished. It was inevitable. But it hurt, nonetheless.

She didn’t know what to say to him. It was obvious he no longer wanted to be with her, if he ever truly had, so much that he would risk fleeing back to the capital. He had to know how dangerous that was. But Cersei had a pull on him that no one, not even Jaime himself, seemed to understand. It was inevitable that he would go back. But that didn’t mean that she could fight it, tell him that it was certain death.

“They're going to destroy that city. You know they will.” He didn’t turn. He acted as if she wasn’t there. It hurt more than she would dare admit. The silence was agonising. When it seemed he might ignore her completely, he broke the silence.

“Have you ever run away from a fight?” It was either a rhetorical question or a stupid one. He knew her well enough to know that she couldn’t. She would never run away from a fight, not if it was the right thing to do. Or maybe he didn’t know her at all. But she didn’t believe that. After all they’d been through... She just needed to get through to him.

She rushed at him, determined that he would look her in the eyes when he broke her heart. His sister might always have his heart, but there must be something in him that made him stay. Something that made her believe, if even for a second that he cared about her even a tiny bit. Something cruel that made her trust him, one of the only men she had ever trusted, even knowing that it would end like this.

When she grabbed his face, his eyes reluctantly met hers. For a second, there was kindness in them. She saw the Jaime she had fallen in love with. It made her hope.

“You're not like your sister. You're not. You're better than she is. You're a good man and you can't save her. You don't need to die with her.”

As quickly as she saw her Jaime, he was gone. His eye grew distant and blocked her out. Her heart cracked again. She wanted her Jaime back.

“Stay here. Stay with me. Please. Stay.” She put her everything into the plea. Her heart was hanging between them. Her watering eyes implored him to listen.

He pushed her hands off him and he looked at her steadily. Looked at her like a stranger.

“You think I'm a good man? I pushed a boy out a tower window, crippled him for life for Cersei,” She flinched. His dead eyes looked straight through her.

“I strangled my cousin with my own hands just to get back to Cersei. I would have murdered every man, woman and child in Riverrun for Cersei.” She thought he’d saved the people of Riverrun for her. But of course, she was wrong. He’d done it for Cersei. No doubt for some political reason. What a fool she’d been.

“She's hateful. And so am I.” And she saw the truth of it behind his eyes. He believed it. And yet, Brienne couldn’t. No matter what he’d done, he’d made her believe he was honourable and sweet.

Her heart shattered and she sobbed as he hoisted himself into the saddle and rode away from her.

More than anything, she felt stupid. It was embarrassing that she would think even for a second that the most beautiful man on the planet would care about her. At least the other men had laughed in her face and called her ugly, a beast. They’d had the decency to make her hate them. And Jaime had at first. But then he’d changed. Or she thought he had.

Watching him ride away, she realised she couldn’t hate him. She would love him, even as her heart shattered into a million pieces. She had less painful stab wounds than this feeling. Her chest felt empty. He had taken all the broken pieces of her heart with him and she felt she’d never recover.

She collapsed to the cobblestones and wept.

"I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this show. I am so angry. I actually yelled at the TV. If GRRM says this is how it ends too, I will have lost all faith in humanity.  
> So I'm back in my happy land where they will live happily ever after, because fuck this shit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of fixing all that D&D did to break our hearts.

It was Tyrion and Jon Snow who found him this time, after slaying the monarch in the Throne room. He’d learned enough from his previous mistake that this time, he collapsed on the steps, and not the Throne itself. The chair was more uncomfortable than the smooth cold stone stairs anyway. He’d always thought it was a stupid design for a chair, having numerous bits of steel stabbing into your backside. If he’d been King, he would’ve had a comfortable, plush Throne commissioned. But he wasn’t, and never wanted to be, king. Not like Cersei had wanted to be queen. She’d wanted it so desperately. Enough to marry Robert. Enough to make herself miserable. Enough to get herself killed.

Her body was below him, sprawled inelegantly on the Keep floor. He wasn’t holding or even touching her, but Tyrion would dramatically describe the scene later, that he was tragically sobbing over her body, golden hand still lying on her throat. He’d torn it off in the struggle and didn’t care to put it back on. He’d never liked the damn thing anyway.

Tyrion had rushed over to him, ignoring the body of his sister, just checking that Jaime was alive and the stains of blood all over him weren’t going to be enough to kill him. Jon had approached far more cautiously, unsure if he was walking into an ambush or his eyes were deceiving him. By the time he’d crossed the room, Ser Davos had appeared and took on the job of confirming that Cersei was well and truly gone.

Jaime would have told them that himself if he’d been aware of what was happening around him.

He’d done this before. It was like the worst kind of déjà vu. When he’d killed Aerys, all he’d sacrificed for the greater good, for the millions of lives, had been his reputation and honour. This time, he’d sacrificed half of his soul. He had until recently sincerely believed that they had been two halves of a whole. But some point, she’d become the twisted, ruthless, dark half. Maybe she always had been. Looking back, it was hard to tell. He’d always been under her spell. But not anymore.

He might not have loved her the way he used to, but she was still a part of him. They’d brought out the worst of each other and now, maybe he could finally be free. Or maybe this would kill him. Why was he still alive when so many weren’t? Could he live as a half?

He hoped so. He didn’t want to have come this far for it to be in vain. All that he’d done couldn’t mean nothing. If nothing else, he’d saved Kings Landing one more time. He hoped that was enough. He’d fulfilled his oaths. An oathkeeper. 

For the first time in a long time he had hope.

 

* * *

 

Jaime didn’t remember much of the next few days. There was a lot of noise and people everywhere. Tyrion had secreted him away in his rooms, but Jaime would have to be deaf not to hear the bells, the roaring of a dragon, sounds of celebrations and rebuilding. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care at all. Tyrion tried to get through to him, but he was also busy, building a new, better world, so Jaime was mostly left to himself.

He thought a lot over those few days. Circular self-recriminating thoughts of being condemned yet saved by doing the worst thing he had ever done. Again. He was a hero, and a villain. Again. He was neither and both. His head pounded, partially from the head wound he’d sustained in the battle and partially from the haunting thoughts. Why was history repeating itself?

He had tried so hard to be a good man. He genuinely had. He knew he hadn’t succeeded most of the time, or at all, depending on who you asked. But he had tried. All in all, he didn’t have that many regrets. If he was sentenced to death now, for whichever of his crimes the new regime saw fit (and there were a lot to choose from), he wouldn’t mind all that much.

Or, if he was being honest, he did have one regret. A sobbing plea played itself in his head when he wasn’t thinking about his half soul and possible execution. He’d hurt the purest soul he’d ever met and tarnished her honour, the thing she valued the most. But he was weak and couldn’t help himself. He ruined the people around him and she was no exception. For that alone, he deserved death.

But he wanted to live and make it up to her. Not that he deserved to ever see her again, let alone be forgiven. But her blue eyes, looking at him with rage, sadness and pity would be the best punishment. It would break what was left intact.

 

* * *

 

News of the victory came to the North first from Bran, who had been there, despite never leaving Winterfell. Brienne didn’t even pretend to understand what any of that meant. She was ecstatic to hear that Kings Landing had been taken. The raven confirming the news came a day later. Cersei was dead. There had been minimal casualties and Westeros had been saved. The politics of it didn’t interest Brienne. Whether it was Daenerys, Gendry, Tyrion, Jon or Ser Davos on the Throne, she couldn’t care less.

She didn’t ask the question she desperately wanted to. Sansa happily told her that Arya and Jon, Tyrion and everyone else was safe and well. Everyone but the person she needed to know about most. She swallowed it down. Sansa knew enough to know that Jaime leaving Winterfell had hurt Brienne. Brienne doubted that she knew the full story, because Sansa seemed to still respect her. If she knew the truth, if she’d heard the rumours, she wouldn’t look her in the eye ever again. But somehow, she seemed blissfully unaware that Brienne had fallen for the enemy.

Bran had no such issues. He knew everything and always either stared off into the distance or into your soul. It was unnerving and Brienne prided herself on being difficult to unnerve.

Brienne exited her door the day after the raven had arrived and nearly had a heart attack. Bran was sat outside the door, alone, on the second floor. How or when he’d gotten there, Brienne wasn’t sure, but it must have been some time ago, given that there was no one else in sight.

“He’s alive you know,” He said, in his customary emotionless tone. She didn’t ask who and she certainly hadn’t known, but it was a relief to hear.

“He’s not hurt?”

“Oh, he’s hurting, but he is not in any danger from his injuries. He is in danger of himself though.” His eyes didn’t blink or waver from hers and she felt she was in some sort of supernatural staring contest. Somewhat sick of his cryptic nonsense, Brienne interrupted.

“Is there a way I can help? Where is he?”

“He’s in Kings Landing, with our brother, Tyrion,” He looked off into the distance, which Brienne had learned meant he was done which the conversation. He seemed to think that was enough information for her to go on.

“Do you need me to take you anywhere?”

“No, thank you. I am where I need to be.”

She barely managed to avoid rolling her eyes but strode off in search of Sansa instead. Maybe she would know more and not send shivers down Brienne’s spine.

 

* * *

 

Sansa was usually a pretty serious woman. Brienne supposed that wasn’t surprising, given all that had happened to her. If Brienne could go back in time, she’d kill Ramsey and Littlefinger herself, knowing what she knew now. But she couldn’t, so she had to content herself with looking after the Lady of Winterfell, to make sure nothing bad befell her again.

However, since the news of the success of their troops, Sansa had been almost jovial, smiling more, and spending more time amongst the women still camped at Winterfell, awaiting their family members back from the capital, or those who had lost people in either battle. Sansa was in her element, ruling and caring for her people. Brienne wished she could be half as carefree. It seemed that the dark cloud that had hung over her Lady’s head had cleared. Everyone who had caused her suffering was gone and she was free. Brienne envied it.

This particular morning, she and Pod found Sansa at her desk, writing a letter. She was engrossed in writing that she didn’t hear them at the door until Brienne cleared her throat rather inelegantly. Sansa jumped and after seeing it was just her sworn sword and her squire, she gave a tiny, embarrassed giggle.

“Good morning, Lady Sansa,” Brienne inclined her head, while beside her, Pod mirrored her. He was becoming a real gentleman and had come miles from the boy he’d been when he had been foisted upon her by Jaime. She felt like a proud mother.

“Good morning, Ser Brienne. Have you eaten yet?”

“Not as yet,” Brienne hadn’t been eating that well these days, since the battle for the dawn.

“Pod, can you fetch myself and Ser Brienne some refreshments?” She asked, gracing him with a smile that had him blushing.

“Of course,” Pod said, scurrying off to the kitchens. He would no doubt be gone a while. The women in the kitchens had taken quite a liking to the young squire.

“Take a seat,” Sansa gestured to the seat next to her with a smile. She watched as Brienne sat down and kept watching her as Brienne tried to gather her courage. The silence stretched on, but Sansa was patient.

“May I ask you something?” Brienne finally asked.

“Of course,” Sansa nodded and leaned back in her chair, waiting for Brienne to continue.

“Do you know… Have you heard..?” She sighed, giving up.

“I have. I didn’t know if you wanted to know or not, after the way he left,” Sansa was looking at her with sympathy and Brienne hated it. She wasn’t one to moon over a handsome knight.

Except that she was. He had made her lose all sense. Damn that infuriating man to hell.

“Is he alright?” Again, she didn’t need to say his name. They both knew who she was talking about.

“He’s alive. Hurt, but not seriously. Tyrion is looking after him,” At the mention of the younger Lannister, Sansa gave a soft small that made Brienne wonder exactly what was happening between Sansa and her first husband.

“And is he under arrest?”

“What for?”

“For helping her. For treason.”

“Oh, Brienne,” Sansa’s eyes became sad, and she was looking at Brienne in a way Brienne couldn’t understand, “I need you to go to King’s Landing. I have something I need you to deliver there.”

“But, My Lady, Winterfell is vulnerable. Who will protect you?” Brienne wouldn’t leave her post unattended, but she was also honour bound to do her Lady’s bidding. Yet the thought of leaving Winterfell scared her. She had been there for so long. She considered this place her home now. Besides, what awaited her in the capital scared her more.

“Our enemies are dead. The nearest villages empty and destroyed. By the time anyone made it here to attack us, the men will be back from the South. We will be fine in your absence, I promise.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am, Brienne.”

Brienne had a sinking feeling that she was walking into a trap. Sansa gave her a warm smile and the feeling intensified. Only bad things happened in Kings Landing. Maybe this time would be the exception. Somehow, she very much doubted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be short and sweet with only three chapters. But as with all of my stories, it got out of hand. No idea how long this will take me to finish, but I'm working on it. I suspect it will depend on how much the last episode breaks our hearts. Either I will be spurred on by hope or rage. Fingers crossed for the former. 
> 
> Jaime did NOT die that way. GRRM, please fix this nonsense. 
> 
> I would have been happier if they didn't give us Braime shippers what we wanted, only to rip it away. That's sadistic. My disappointment and rage knows no bounds. I'mma dracarys their arses. 
> 
> Also, huge thanks to everyone for reading this and Guest of Winterfell. I really appreciate it. You guys rock. May Braime live on in our hearts forever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Tyrion plot and scheme.

Jaime wasn’t getting any better and Tyrion was getting increasingly worried. Physically, he’d recovered, but mentally and emotionally he was still a wreck. He’d tried everything to cheer his brother up, but it was like he’d died in the Keep with Cersei. Tyrion knew how happy and free Jaime could be without the influence of their sister, but he just didn’t quite know how to make it happen. The outside world was busy moving into a new era, and despite some losses, most people were celebrating. Even Jon Snow or Jon Targaryen or Aegon or whatever he was called these days smiled more than Jaime. It was unnerving.

It wasn’t that Jaime wasn’t functioning or completely lost to grief. Tyrion had given him space to grieve and even shared in his tears. Cersei may not have been his favourite person, but she had been his sister despite it all. So they had grieved together.

But weeks later, he was still hidden in Tyrion’s quarters. That was his choice, not trusting that he wouldn’t be killed on sight for treason. The brothers spoke every night, sitting by the fire, discussing inconsequential topics. But as soon as Tyrion broached anything more serious, or referenced certain people, Jaime would turn away and change the subject. It was frustrating.

Luckily, Tyrion had a few people he could call on to try to help. He had consulted the new king and queen, who had yet to actually marry, but were ruling in tandem regardless. He ensured that, despite no love being lost between them, Jaime would be safe from persecution. At least, free from formal persecution. He would never be the most popular man in Kings Landing, but he wasn’t going to be locked up. It was enough for now.

Very few people knew that Jaime was still alive, or that he had been the one to kill Cersei. Rumours of how the former queen had met her end were wide and varied and only got crazier the more they spread. Tyrion had wanted to correct people, but wasn’t sure of how Jaime would react, so had held his tongue. Few knew the story of Aerys and fewer still knew the truth of Cersei.

Tyrion had written to Sansa, the new Warden of the North, and his apparent pen pal. Since their ordeal in the crypts, they had kept in touch. Sansa had written to check how the campaign had gone, and how he had fared. Tyrion didn’t know why she’d asked him, when she could have asked her brother/cousin or sister, who had somehow appeared from nowhere and continued to skulk around. But Sansa had asked him, and he’d gratefully accepted the gesture, telling her the whole story, including that of his brother. She had taken him into her confidence, so now he did the same. Only this time, he hoped the repercussions wouldn’t be quite so disastrous and nearly end in the deaths of thousands.

The raven bearing the news that Brienne was on her way South was a genius decision by his former wife. Sansa had outgrown his intelligence and no doubt could outsmart him in a heartbeat. It was intimidating, impressive and he was proud of her. He had no right to be proud, he’d had nothing to do with her education (and he hated Littlefinger and Ramsey for the lessons they’d taught), but to see the woman she was now was inspiring.

Tyrion had seen Jaime happy, in the aftermath of the War for the Dawn, or whatever ridiculous name they were giving it. And he knew why. Some of it had been that they were all relieved to be alive. But he’d also seen the smile on his brother’s face when they had been around the tall lady knight. And the blush when he’d asked him about her. Jaime had been smitten and awkward. Admittedly, Tyrion’s questions had been overly crass, but he’d been testing Jaime’s feelings for her and his defensiveness had said more than his words ever would.

They weren’t the emotionally open types, the Lannister’s. Especially Jaime, who had been raised as a strong, stoic knight. Especially romantically, since all his romantic encounters, including those in the North, had to be had in secret. They may have been open secrets, but secrets, nonetheless. One couldn’t exactly be demonstrative, when your lover was your sister, or a highborn lady who you were not yet wed to. He wondered if Jaime even knew what it was like to hold someone’s hand without fear. Maybe one day he would. He hoped so.

Tyrion counted down the days until Brienne arrived.

 

* * *

 

Brienne and Pod set off from Winterfell, bearing letters for the soon to be king and queen, as well as a large, heavy wrapped present for Jon that Sansa had insisted needed to be delivered as soon as possible. It felt like a cloak, presumably a wedding cloak, though why Sansa didn’t deliver it personally when they travelled for the wedding was beyond her.  The wedding had been scheduled for 3 months’ time, when the realm had settled into a new normal.

However, to her own dismay, Brienne found herself dragging her feet. As a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, she was expected to carry out the orders of her lady to the best of her abilities. If her lady said it was a matter of urgency to get to the capital, she should have left immediately. Instead, she waited until the next morning, packing her saddlebags with unusual care. Even Pod was restless to be on the road by the time they finally left, in the mid-morning.

They made their way down the deserted Kings Road at a meandering pace. Pod led the way and more than once had to stop and wait for Brienne to catch up.

Brienne’s stomach was in knots and every step towards the South was tightening it. She didn’t know what she was afraid of. She would deliver her cargo and be back in the North before anyone even knew she was there. But she didn’t know what awaited her in the capital and her instincts were telling her that something was not quite right. Sansa hadn’t said much about why they needed to travel to the capital and she felt like she was an oxen being led to slaughter.

By the time they were halfway to Kings Landing, they met up with the returning Northmen. Many were wounded, but the celebratory spirit of troops on their way home to loved ones soothed Brienne’s spirit. The South must have been settled by now, if Jon was willing to send his allies home. Brienne and Pod camped for a night with the banner men, swapping stories of the War for the Dawn and hearing first-hand the victory against the Lannister and Queensguard forces.

The tale of Cersei’s death gave Brienne pause. Part of her, the small vengeful part, wanted to hear how she had been defeated. But the larger part of her didn’t want to know. She didn’t care to hear her name. She had stolen the man she loved from her, even if he’d never really been hers. It was petty, but she couldn’t help it.

And as a knight, she didn’t want to revel in the death of anyone, whether she believed they deserved it or not. Death was inevitable and part of serving, but she could never take pleasure in the taking of a life. Not even for Cersei.

When talk turned inevitably to Cersei’s death, Brienne excused herself. Pod watched her go, but he obviously wanted to stay and hear, and he’d made quite a few friends amongst the Northerners, so Brienne let him. She retired to her bedroll, and tried to block it all out. But she couldn’t sleep and as the men got drunker and rowdier, their voices lifted.

Her head turned at the mention of _The Kingslayer_. The men laughed as they joked how the twins had been found. Both dead, crushed beneath the Red Keep, locked in an embrace. The men argued if they’d been found naked or not, but Brienne had heard enough. Even knowing from Sansa that Jaime was alive, that night she shed more tears for the man who had abandoned her for his sister. Everyone knew that even at the end, Jaime had been at Cersei’s side. He loved her.

She cried herself to sleep for not the first time since he'd left. 

The banner men continued North the next day, as Brienne and Pod doubled their efforts to get to Kings Landing. Brienne had decided that the sooner they could get this over and done with, the happier she’d be.

Pod struggled to keep up as she pushed determinedly ahead.

 

* * *

 

Jaime had taken to looking out the window of Tyrion’s quarters. He’d taken to watching the comings and goings of the commoners. Never before in his life had Jaime had the time or inclination to just observe the lives of those who inhabited the capital. He’d been too wrapped up in his own life, living amongst the privileged, he’d never stopped to wonder what happened outside his world. He saw the small folk buying and selling goods, meeting friends and loved ones, going about their days. The ruler may have changed, but their lives went on as they always had, unaware that their homes had come so close to being razed to the ground only weeks ago.

He saw Daenerys and Jon Snow out amongst the people some days. Sometimes the Unsullied patrolled the streets. Other times Tyrion was running around on some errand or other. It filled his days when nothing else did. He’d never been much of a reader, preferring to learn by doing, and not having much use for academics in the Kingsguard.

One day, he had been stood in the window, staring out at the now memorised streets and characters, when two achingly familiar figures entered the gates. Her flaxen hair and blue armour were unmistakable, as was the squire shadowing her.

His heart stopped as she looked up at the Keep. He knew she wouldn’t be able to see him, but when her eyes passed over the tower where he stood, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was him she was looking for. But why would she? He was dead, according to most and even if he wasn’t she wouldn’t ever want to see him again. He’d made sure of that.

He didn’t see either of the Stark girls with her, though he had heard the news of the impending marriage of the new monarchs and should have expected their arrival at some point. But he hadn’t expected to ever see her again.

As she drew nearer to the Red Keep, he watched her. Watched how she looked around, looking for the changes since she’d last been here. Even from this high up, he could see when she saw the destroyed walls and signs of the fighting. It hadn’t devastated the landscape, but the evidence was there. He saw her eyes fall on the new banners that hung on the walls, bearing the sigil of their new rulers.

She looked tired, like she hadn’t been sleeping. She held herself stiffly, like she’d spent too many hours in the saddle. She wasn’t looking after herself and Jaime found himself wanting to shout some sense into her squire. He wondered at his ability to read her so well. They had spent so much time together, yet hardly any at all. Certainly not compared to how much he’d spent with Cersei… The name still stung, even after knowing he’d done what needed to be done. He thought he’d made his peace with his decisions in the weeks between Winterfell and Kings Landing. But he hadn’t. Not when he’d left her crying in the courtyard. Not when he’d wrapped his hands around his sister’s throat. Not in the weeks that had passed since.

Brienne disappeared inside the Keep and Jaime collapsed into the nearest chair. He couldn’t hide forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter, but I wanted to set the scene a bit more before I get these two crazy lovebirds back in the same room. Although, I get the feeling it's not going to go smoothly... 
> 
> Also, I've decided, after the nightmare of nonsense that has been the ending of this epic saga called Game of Thrones, I am giving them all happy endings. It's not going to be Disney, but I need a way to heal my heart after they broke it. So this is it.
> 
> I bawled like a baby when Brienne was writing in the White Book for Jaime. I felt it was shameless pandering to the audience, but I didn't care. And I have laughed so hard at the memes of what else she could have written in the book. 
> 
> If you need hilarious memes, Maisie posted on Twitter that she was just there for the memes and what followed was brilliance. Check it out if you want to laugh at how terrible this season has been. It's worth it, I promise you.


	5. Chapter 5

Brienne hated the capital. It was claustrophobic and loud. And now, it had the scars of battle and the smell of death too. It was more than a little unpleasant. She wished more than anything that she was back in Winterfell. She’d take almost freezing to this any day.

She and Pod made their way straight to the Red Keep. It was an impressive building, even Brienne had to admit it, but it would have been so much nicer if it was surrounded by fields or cliffs, not a bustling city.

The whole experience was making her anxious and she wanted to turn around and ride away as soon as possible. Being inside the Red Keep was bringing back memories she’d rather not revisit.

Tyrion greeted them, before they got to the Throne room. Brienne was glad that he had survived both wars. She hardly knew Tyrion, but he seemed decent enough, for a Lannister. At least Sansa liked him, and any friend of her lady’s was a friend of hers. He didn’t look much like his siblings, a fact she was glad of, otherwise she might have turned tail and run there and then. Instead, she and Pod greeted him as old friends and brothers in arms and followed him into the Throne room.

Jon and Dany sat on the dais. The Iron Throne was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the king and queen sat on stately, but not ostentatious chairs. They looked good sitting there, they complimented each other, though Jon looked far less comfortable, as one of the small folk brought their case before them. Dany looked the part of a monarch, like she was born to it. Jon didn’t.

Brienne liked Jon a lot. He was such a Northern man. Straight to the point. She wondered exactly how well he would cope in the world of courtly politics. Brienne felt sorry for him but couldn’t help hoping that he might balance out his soon-to-be-wife. Daenerys was a lot less likeable and approachable than Jon. Sansa didn’t trust her, and Brienne had to agree. She was elevated too far above the average Westerosi, where he was one of the average Westerosi. More or less.

He hadn’t asked for the throne. He had it thrust upon him. Maybe that was exactly the kind of ruler Westeros needed. Combined with Daenerys’s experience, they would make a formidable team, if he could curb the fiery impulses of the Targaryen that she clearly had inside her. So long as he didn’t have it in him as well.

As soon as Dany and Jon saw her, they both smiled. Brienne bowed, but waited patiently until the other occupants of the room filed out, before she approached the pair.

 “Ser Brienne, Podrick,” Jon smiled at them, “We have been expecting you.”

“Thank you, Your Graces.” She bowed again, trying to remember how one conducted themselves around royalty and hoping she didn’t accidentally offend anyone. She’d never been much for the pomp and ceremony of royalty.

“We welcome you, Ser. You must be tired from the road. Can I have someone show you to your rooms?” Dany asked, climbing down from the dais and gesturing for Jon, Tyrion, Brienne and Pod to follow her.

“We are fine staying in one of the nearby inns, Your Grace.” Brienne wouldn’t feel comfortable in a suite here, far more used to camping or her modest room in Winterfell.

“Not at all, Ser. You and your squire are heroes. You led the Northmen to victory. An impressive feat, especially for the first female knight.”

Brienne was worried if she blushed any harder, she would burst into flame as hot and ferocious as any dragon fire. She could hear Pod laughing quietly behind her, but she squared her shoulders and kept walking.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” She wanted to argue, but she didn’t think that it would do any good when the queen seemed so determined, and it seemed rude to refuse. So she bit her tongue and let Daenerys send for a maid to take her and Pod to their rooms.

This trip was already not going how she’d hoped it would.

 

* * *

 

Jaime couldn’t hide forever. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

Tyrion had been hounding him to leave his room, getting more and more insistent as time ticked on. But the longer he stayed hidden, the easier it was to stay where he was. Not for poor Tyrion, who was slowly being driven insane by having his space invaded. Between spending all day in meetings and Jaime using his bedchamber as a safe haven, he was lucky if he could take a piss is peace. He thought about asking for new chambers and leaving Jaime to languish in his misery alone, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Yet.

The day Brienne rode into the capital, Tyrion was especially insistent that Jaime get up and leave the room. He had become pale and gaunt from the lack of sunlight and exercise. Jaime had never been this stagnant before and he found he didn’t like it. He liked having a purpose.

“Brother, I love you. You know I do, but if you do not leave this room, I will push you out the window,” Tyrion said, clearly joking. But it didn’t stop the chill that crawled down Jaime’s spine at the reminder of what he’d done to Brandon Stark. And what had happened to his youngest son. Poor, innocent Tommen. So unlike his parents and older brother. He and Myrcella had been too pure for all the backstabbing and politicking. Jaime wasn’t sure how they’d become so sweet and kind, with the mother and father/s they’d grown up with.

Tyrion sensed the change in his brother, and sobered. He hadn’t meant to bring up bad memories, though he didn’t know about Bran. No one did, except Bran and Brienne.

Tyrion had loved his niece and nephews and he would have loved any other children Cersei and/or Jaime had. But she’d lied. Of course she had. And they’d both believed her. They’d both been idiots when their dearest sister was concerned.

“I will... Eventually.”

“I promise, you won’t be arrested or executed.” Jaime looked as him suspiciously.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but there’s more people out there than just the king and queen and I’m fairly sure at least half of them want my head on a stick. Lannister’s, Northmen and commoners alike. Maybe the Dothraki wouldn’t kill me, but I don’t think they even know who I am.”

Tyrion sighed. Sansa had pulled off her half of the plan easily. She had gotten Brienne and Jaime within the same building, from across an entire continent. Yet Tyrion couldn’t get them those last few feet. Tyrion had to somehow lure Jaime and Brienne into the same room. It should have been simple enough. But Jaime was stubborn and from what Tyrion knew of Brienne, it seemed he was against two of the most headstrong people in all of the world. 

His choice now was to either forfeit the plan or somehow get Brienne into his chambers. Unlike Jaime, he couldn’t just entice women with a single look. Not that Jaime ever had, too under Cersei’s spell. His one exception was Brienne. Tyrion didn’t fully understand it, but they seemed to have some kind of bond that went beyond what Tyrion had ever experienced. He’d seen it when Jaime had knighted her. They had an entire conversation, without speaking a word. It was then that he knew that Jaime felt something for Brienne beyond friendship or respect.

He had to admit, when his brother loved, he loved with everything he was.

Tyrion sighed. He wondered if his famous brain could somehow figure out a way to get these two stubborn knights to stop being self-defeating. Maybe it was a challenge that even Tyrion couldn’t beat. At least, not alone.

 

* * *

 

Brienne had just wanted to give her new monarchs the things she’d been sent to deliver and leave this damned place. Instead, she was being housed in the nicest quarters she could have ever imagined and being fitted for new clothes. Apparently, it wouldn’t do to have two of the realm’s saviours being dressed in their simple Northern clothes, not for the wedding at least, so she submitted to the seamstresses and let them measure and colour match her to their hearts content. Her head ached from the discussion of whether red suited her or washed her out. She’d rather just wear her armour and be done with it.

Across the room, Pod was being flanked by two of the younger seamstresses, who seemed to be taking far longer measuring him than hers had. They were also giggling incessantly at everything he said. She was happy to see him getting attention though, so she let it be. He’d come a long way from being the fresh-faced boy he’d been when he’d been gifted into her care.

Four days had passed since they’d arrived in the capital and she hadn’t yet seen or heard of Jaime, a fact she was incredibly grateful for. She kept looking over her shoulders, searching the crowd. Occasionally she felt as if she could feel him watching her, but he never was. Every flash of gold in the market was his hand, every silver and gold head was him.

Luckily, the king and queen had kept her busy, at formal luncheons and discussing the new political landscape with their advisors. She was feeling increasingly out of her depth, but flattered they thought she had earned her place there. It seemed like only a few weeks ago that she had been a nobody. Now she was a respected knight. Maybe even a friend to some of the highest ranked lords and ladies in the land. She’d come a long way since Renly had allowed her into his Rainbow Guard, when no one else had taken her seriously.

Jaime hadn’t taken her seriously either, at least not at the beginning. She wasn’t sure when their insults had become more than that, but they had. And now she was here, in love and heartbroken.

Sometimes she wondered how her life had ended up this way, but she couldn’t imagine her life any other way now. She was serving her lady and helping to protect the realm. No matter what happened to her personally, she was proud of what she’d done. That was all that mattered.

All in all, Jon and Daenerys had been nothing but kind. All of their advisors had seen her lead and protect the North, and treated her with respect too. With advisors from the highest and noblest houses, like Tyrion, to Ser Davos and Grey Worm, she found she wasn’t alone in feeling somewhat out of place. It helped put her at ease.

But despite informing them of the need to return to Winterfell with haste and the apparent urgency of her messages, the king and queen seemed unmoved. She knew they were busy, but she was going stir crazy.

She found herself wandering the Red Keep one afternoon, a week later, when she ran into Tyrion. His smile on seeing her was wide and genuine and Brienne found herself smiling back. They had spent a lot of time together at meetings and meals, but had so far not had the chance to speak alone.

“How are you, My Lord?” She bowed. Tyrion waved away the formality like an annoying insect.

“I find myself incredibly busy, Ser. Who knew that conquering a kingdom was the easiest part of a war?” She laughed and found herself being led without a word to one of the council chambers she had frequented recently. Tyrion gestured for her to take a seat and poured them both some wine. A memory of the last time they drank together invaded her mind, but she shook it away.

“How are you enjoying the capital, Ser?” He asked, hoisting himself into a chair beside her.

“Truthfully, while I am grateful for the king and queen’s generosity, I find I am missing the North.” She didn’t find telling Tyrion the truth was a hardship. She felt a sort of kinship to him. He seemed to inspire trust, and she found that she could understand why he had been named Hand so many times. It was a good choice.

“I understand. It must be hard being away from Sansahh… your lady.” He looked away, somewhat sheepishly, and Brienne smiled, suspicions that his feelings for his former wife went beyond friendship confirmed. It was an unusual match, but if it made her lady happy, Brienne couldn’t help but celebrate it. They had survived and deserved to be happy.

“It is. I have never felt any love for the capital, but Winterfell has become a second home to me.”

“The first being Tarth?” He asked. She couldn’t reply that the first was wherever Jaime was. Not anymore.

“Yes, My Lord,” She lied.

“Just Tyrion is fine, Ser.” He drank deeply from his cup.

“Then you may call me Brienne.” She loved being a knight, but she had to admit that thinking about how she had come to be a knight still sent shivers down her spine. After all that had happened, that was the moment that she knew for sure that Jaime felt more for her then she could ever have imagined, or ever have hoped. She knew they had been friends, or a sort, but the way he’d looked at her as he knighted her… It had made her hope that her love for him wasn’t as one sided as she’d assumed. But it turns out it had been one sided after all and she was right to be weary.

“Brienne,” He paused, as if searching for the right words, “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” In all the time she’d known him, Tyrion had seemed so self-assured and confident. She hid her grin behind her cup, taking a sip, thinking of how love made fools of even the smartest men, when he finally asked,

“Are you in love with my brother?”

She choked on her wine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is hating the Lannister's right now and Arya is a sneaky ninja.

The question took her by surprise. Did she love Jaime? Had she always loved him? Did she still love him, despite everything? She didn’t know. Or maybe her heart did, but she refused to accept it.

Tyrion watched her struggling to answer.

“You know he survived. And he’s not being held prisoner.”

“Where is he?” Her voice cracked. She hated being weak in front of anyone, learning young that showing any vulnerability, either in battle or not, could be exploited. She’d had more than her fair share of being taunted and teased for being a masculine and tall woman. Too manly to be a woman and too feminine to be a man. She could usually let it just bounce off her. 

She hated how vulnerable she was when it came to Jaime.

“He’s safe.”

Despite how much he’d hurt her, hearing that he was alive and in no immediate danger was like a weight being lifted off her shoulders. And she hated herself for it. To know that the man you loved was a terrible person, and to love them anyway, surely was a sign of madness.

“Brienne, do you love him?”  

“I’m sorry.” She rushed out the door, desperately trying to quell the tears. She couldn’t help but feel rude, but she couldn’t cry in front of him.

He didn’t follow her.

She stumbled up the stairs towards her rooms. She held in her tears until she slammed the door behind her and let out the floods in wracking sobs.

The Lannister’s were nothing but cruel, heartless bastards.

 

* * *

 

Jaime was awakened from his afternoon nap by an almighty bang and the sounds of a sobbing woman. Immediately, he was on his feet and peering out the door, sword in hand. If a woman was in trouble, he needed to help them. He couldn’t see where they were, but when the sobbing quietened and he heard no other signs of trouble, he retreated into Tyrion’s rooms. It was the first time he had stepped outside of the rooms since he’d been brought there to recuperate.

The sounds of the sobs had been like a dagger to the gut. It sounded so much like Brienne when he’d left her in the courtyard at Winterfell. Knowing she was in the capital was a sweet type of torture. He occasionally glimpsed her around the city and wondered at her still being here. Perhaps she was staying until the wedding. 

He wanted to talk to her. Just once. To try to apologise. But he knew she would probably kill him as soon as she set eyes on him. Not that he wouldn’t deserve it. He knew he did. He’d been cruel. It had served a purpose, but she didn’t know that.

Maybe he could get Tyrion to talk to her or give her a letter? Something to let her know that he was sorry. To let her know that he missed her. But he didn't want to hurt her more than he already had. Maybe it was best to just let her go. 

 

* * *

 

Tyrion watched her go and sighed. He needed to learn to be more delicate when it came to women’s feelings. But it had confirmed to him that she did indeed love his brother. The tears hadn’t been tears of anger at being jilted. They were tears of grief and relief. She had been terrified for him and knowing he was safe had clearly lifted the weight off her shoulders.

After everything his idiot brother had done to hurt her, this mad woman still loved him. She wasn’t going to stab him on sight.

At least, probably not.

Jaime had survived fighting the dead and killing the queen, all with only one hand. It wouldn’t do to have him stabbed by a scorned lover after all that.

Tyrion may be the younger brother, but he felt a protective of Jaime. He’d been through a lot and he deserved to be happy. Tyrion wanted him to finally live his life for himself and he knew she could make him happy. Just seeing them together in Winterfell was enough to convince him of that. 

He knew that no matter what, he needed to get the two honourable morons back together.

Time to call in reinforcements.

 

* * *

 

Brienne had taken to straying farther and farther from the castle whenever she wasn’t in meetings. She would patrol the streets, help the smallfolk with everyday tasks and tried to busy herself with not worrying about Sansa, Arya, Jaime or the new monarchs.

Pod would stay behind at the castle, basking in the luxury of the palace and being termed a “hero”. He loved to tell the tales of their exploits to anyone who would listen. He'd really grown out of his shyness. She didn’t begrudge him his fun. He was young and had fought bravely. If he wanted to bask, he could.

So long as it didn’t get in the way of his training.

One day, she was so far from the Red Keep she almost couldn’t see it towering over the other buildings. She breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Ser Brienne,” Arya greeted her, walking beside Brienne where only a second ago an old man had been. Brienne tried not to show that it had startled her, but suspected that Arya knew anyway. 

“Lad… Arya,” She began. It had taken some getting used to, not calling the younger Stark woman by a title. But Brienne knew what it was like to be different. She had fought to be the first female ser. It was unorthodox, to not call a highborn lady as such, but from the small amount of time that Brienne had spent with Arya, she sensed she was unorthodox in a lot of ways.

“I hate the capital,” The youngest Stark complained, leading Brienne down an alleyway. Brienne couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“Are you heading back to Winterfell before the wedding? Podrick and I can accompany you.”

“No, I’m going to stay here for now. At least until the wedding’s over and done with. Sansa's more than capable of looking after Winterfell.”

“That’s true, but I know she misses you.”

Arya smiled at that. The sisters had become much closer in recent times and she wished she’d had siblings to fight with and fight beside. She could barely remember Galladon and her sisters had died too young to know them at all.

But siblings weren’t all good, she knew.

They entered a run down looking tavern on the outskirts of the city. Arya nodded to the barkeep, and before Brienne could blink, they had two drinks set in front of them. It seemed Arya was no stranger to this place.

“Brienne, I want to say thank you for beating the Hound and trying to protect me. I appreciated the sentiment, even if I didn’t need the help.”

“Of course. I swore an oath to protect you and your sister. I am only sorry I couldn’t have protected you both better.”

Brienne knew both sisters had been through a lot. Sansa had told people of the things she had been through. Maybe not all of what had happened to her, and not in detail, but enough for Brienne to connect a lot of the dots. Arya hadn’t shared what she’d done in the years since she’d escaped King’s Landing after her father’s death. The Hound had filled in a lot of the gaps, but after she’d left him, she’d fallen off the map. Brienne could see she’d been through a lot, and she had the fighting skills to prove it, but other than that, Brienne had no idea.

“You did your best. No one could expect anything else. The Starks are bad at being protected, I’m afraid.” Arya grinned and took a drink from the ale in front of her. Brienne was happy to see her cup was filled with water and similarly took a sip.

“Sansa is on her way to the capital now,” Arya said.

“But I was to accompany her. Who is travelling with her?” The thought of Sansa travelling without her put her on edge. She was bound to protect her, and Brienne knew the kinds of things that could happen when travelling. She could still feel Locke's men pushing and pulling at her, even now. 

“Gendry,” She said, looking away, as if the wall were interesting to her.

“The new Lord Baratheon?” Brienne had known who Gendry was the second she’d laid eyes on him. He looked so much like Renly; it had taken her breath away. She laughed now, looking back. She had loved Renly, truly. But the love she had felt for him was loyalty, gratefulness, respect. And yes, she had thought him attractive.

But that love was so innocent and simple. What she felt now, for a man so very different… It was complicated. But it was deeper, and it had been requited. At least for a short time. Or at least she thought it had. 

But thinking about the two men she'd loved hurt. She’d been heartbroken by both and she didn’t know that she could let herself feel those ways again.

“Yes. The new ‘Lord’. God knows how he’ll run an entire castle. He’s useless.” She grumbled.

“I’m sure he’ll do fine.”

Arya snorted, but didn’t argue.

“Are you staying in the capital until the wedding then?” Arya asked.

“I suppose so. The king and queen seem to appreciate my counsel and if Sansa doesn’t need me to travel with her, I suppose I'll be staying here.” Brienne wanted nothing more than to get out of this place, but she hadn’t heard from Sansa, calling her back North, so until told otherwise, she supposed she was to stay where she was.

“Good. Now, will you come with me to the Red Keep? I hate the place and I need a friendly face around.”

“Of course.”

Arya finished her ale, throwing her head back and drinking it down in great gulps. It wasn’t ladylike at all and Brienne couldn’t help but admire how she didn’t seem to care much for propriety or appearances.

She wished she could just throw caution to the wind and do whatever she wanted too.

Arya led Brienne down side streets and alleys, ducking in and out of the crowds faster than Brienne could keep up, or keep track of, even with her height advantage. Many times, Arya had to stop and wait for Brienne to catch up.

They reached the Red Keep faster than Brienne had thought possible and entered via a door she would have sworn was solid rock. They crossed some basement below the Keep, Brienne’s footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Arya’s steps were unnaturally silent. If she concentrated, Brienne could hear them. But they were masked by the thud of her boots and clanking of her armour.

Arya led her up what could only be a servant’s staircase into a familiar corridor. Finally having her bearings, she was surprised at where they were.

“And, here we are,” Arya said, leading Brienne into a small meeting room.

“Where..?” Her question trailed off as she walked into the room and saw the occupants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next chapter written and I'm editing it now, so it shouldn't be too long before it's ready to go. And you all know what's gonna happen next.
> 
> I read an interesting article about the scene that started this fic. I both agreed and disagreed. I'd love to hear what everyone else thinks about it: [here](https://www.news.com.au/entertainment/tv/game-of-thrones/the-most-misunderstood-scene-in-game-of-thrones-final-season/news-story/f792d8f1f3dba5f24e86e99dcc28df3d)
> 
> Also: how do I get that job? I could write about Game of Thrones. In fact I do. How do I get paid to do what I already do?
> 
> I also wanted to say: I am 100% in love with the entire cast of Game of Thrones. I keep thinking "I wish they'd waited for the next book before they started making the show, so they could have more to go on", but if they had, they wouldn't have this cast. They all would have been too old. Can you imagine anyone else as Arya, or Sansa, or Jaime or Brienne? Hell no. 
> 
> Also, thank you Brian Cogman, who deserves a little bit of love. My hatred is pretty much 100% directed towards D&D.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunion we've all been waiting for. Finally.

Tyrion barged into his chambers with purpose. Jaime had been sitting by the window again, having earlier glimpsed Brienne wandering through the city and was now eagerly awaiting her return.

“Jaime, the king and queen have summoned you.”

“Why?” Jaime asked, turning to his brother. He was trying not to be too concerned about a summons by the new rulers, given Tyrion had told him they had agreed not to arrest him. But what other reason would the king and queen have to call for him?

“They didn’t say. But I think it may have something to do with the remaining Lannister soldiers. They aren’t sure what to do with them and they think having the Lannister heir talk to them might get them to co-operate,” Tyrion paused, but before Jaime could argue he continued, “I’m inclined to agree.”

Jaime huffed.

“Why don’t they ask you to talk to them? As far as most people are concerned, I’m dead, or should be. You are the heir to the great Lannister legacy,” He sneered. What legacy had they left, in the end? All the plotting and scheming and politicking had led nowhere.

“You’re not just the heir, Jaime. You’re also their commander.” Tyrion walked over to him and looked him in the eyes, begging him.

“I used to be. Not anymore.” He looked away. He missed having an army to command. He missed being out on a campaign. This few weeks seemed the longest he’d been cooped up anywhere. He wanted to be out there again. He missed having a purpose. 

Tyrion sensed his brother was weakening, so he pulled out the trump card – innocent lives to be saved.

“They will listen to you. We don’t want any more bloodshed,” Tyrion pled.

Jaime sighed, knowing when he was beaten.

“You are sure that this isn’t a trap?” He asked. Tyrion looked nervous for a brief second that anyone except Jaime would have missed. But then he smiled and assured him.

“I believe you would be in more danger if you were to refuse. They have two dragons and we’ve both seen what happens when the queen doesn’t get what she wants.”

Jaime shuddered remembering coming a hairs breadth away from being eviscerated by Drogon’s fire. He’d been so sure he was going to die. But that wasn’t an uncommon feeling for Jaime.

It was a feeling that he was feeling at that moment.

“Lead the way then, brother. But if I’m being burned, I’m taking you with me.”

He took a deep breath and followed Tyrion out the door. It felt strange to be outside that room again. He looked around nervously as they made their way through the castle, but Tyrion seemed to sense his hesitation, because they didn’t encounter anyone else, travelling through the servant and unused parts of the Keep.

He wondered why the king and queen had wanted to meet him in a small, disused meeting room, far away from the heart of the Keep, but Tyrion led him in as if it were a normal occurrence, so he followed him. No matter what side they’d been on, or how far away they’d been, Jaime trusted Tyrion. He wouldn’t put him in danger if he could avoid it.

Cersei had controlled most of his life, but even her hatred for their little brother couldn’t stop how much Jaime had always loved him. He had withstood his fathers’ disappointment and Cersei’s disgust for a few things, like his becoming a Kingsguard and the loss of his hand. But none more so than his love for Tyrion. He’d never questioned it for a second.

“Take a seat.” Tyrion poured them both a cup of wine from the pitcher on the table. Tyrion stood beside him, instead of sitting. The seconds ticked by as Tyrion sipped at his drink. Jaime had an increasingly bad feeling about the whole situation and was about to question his brother, when the door opened.

“Here we are.” He heard someone say. Then everything else ceased to exist as Brienne entered the room.

 

* * *

 

“No! Ayra,” Brienne begged. Tyrion had run past her as fast as his legs would carry him, the door closing behind them with the unmistakable click of a lock.

Brienne tried the door anyway, just in case. But it was locked and didn’t seem like the kind of door that she could just break down.

“Brienne…” Jaime had stood and was making his way slowly towards her.

“No! Shut up. You don’t get to talk to me,” She snarled, turning on him. He shrunk under the weight of her anger.

They stood there, looking at each other. Brienne was breathing heavily and looked as if she could begin yelling again at any second. No one spoke, though both Brienne and Jaime knew that Arya, Tyrion and probably a few others were standing guard outside the door.

“You know they aren’t letting us out of here until we’ve at least talked to each other. Or one of us is dead.” Jaime couldn’t help but look at Oathkeeper on her hip. He was unarmed, but she was not. And if one of them had motive to kill the other… It wasn’t exactly looking good for him. He didn’t doubt she’d have a few thousand people willing to give her an alibi and help her dispose of his body.

“Don’t tempt me,” She growled under her breath. Jaime couldn’t help but smile. She’d spoken to him. Sure, it was a mild threat of murder, but that wasn’t new. If he had a gold coin for every time she’d threatened him, he could earn back the Lannister riches.

He sat back down at the table, feigning nonchalance and gestured to the other chairs. She just glared at him and tried the door again. When that didn’t work, she sighed as if the entire world was against her and she sat in the chair as far from him as possible. Her arms were crossed so tight and her head turned from him so aggressively. She was so tense he was worried she’d pull a muscle or burst a blood vessel.

“They can’t keep us in here forever,” She said, more to herself than to him.

“I wouldn’t test that theory if I were you. Tyrion can be stubborn as a mule when he wants to be.” She gave no indication she’d heard him.

“Brienne, can you please just listen to me?” She was still staring at the wall as though she could will herself through it and out of his company. He didn’t blame her. But he wasn’t going to miss this chance. He’d planned what he would say to her if he ever saw her again. He’d carefully crafted a million ways, a million words, a million apologies. But all plans flew out of the window as he came face to face with her indifference.

“Fine, I’m going to talk whether you listen or not.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” She grumbled. It felt very much like they were back at the beginning of their relationship, these playful, or not so playful, barbs. But that gave Jaime hope, because she’d grown to love him once. She could surely do it again.

Only there was an added layer now. Because they couldn’t pretend they didn’t care about each other. And they couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d hurt her. She might never forgive him, and he knew he didn’t deserve it. But if he didn’t try, he might as well have died with Cersei after all.

“Brienne, I’m sorry. You have no idea how much. But I needed to try. I had to.”

She didn’t respond, but he didn’t expect her to. He just needed to get this off his chest. So long as she didn’t stab him, he was happy.

“If she was pregnant, I had to try to save the baby. I couldn’t save any of my other children, but maybe this time I could’ve. I didn’t know she wasn’t pregnant. But I should’ve. She’d lied about less. I was a fool.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He ignored her and ploughed on.

“I am the stupidest Lannister, whether there’s 2 of us or 20,000. I always have been. I couldn’t save my children, I couldn’t save my king, I couldn’t save my father, or anyone else I’ve ever cared about. And even though I knew better, I _did_ try to save her. I couldn’t just let her destroy herself and take everyone else with her. But I think I always knew that she wouldn’t just give up like that.” He sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat, desperately trying to say what he needed to say without losing his composure.

“Of course, she wouldn’t. Even I knew that.” She rolled her eyes. He had to concede her point there. He may have been the one who should have known Cersei best, but he’d been blinded to her cruelty and ruthlessness. What seemed so obvious to everyone else had eluded him until it was far too late.

“I needed to stop her. When she told me there was no baby, and that she was going to burn the place to the ground, I had to. It was Aerys all over again. I couldn’t let her kill thousands of innocent people. Not again..." He paused, thinking of the great sept and the many lives taken by her need for revenge, "I’m sorry that I hurt you like that, lied to you, but anyone else would have killed her and who knows how many others in the process. I was the only one who could get close enough to try to reason with her. But I couldn’t,” His voice broke, “I couldn’t stop her. I had to... I watched the life drain out of her eyes, _my eyes_ , at my hand and I didn’t feel anything.” He was openly sobbing now.

“You killed her?” Brienne whispered. She was finally looking at him, eyes wide and stunned.

“You didn’t know?” He asked, looking just as shocked.

“No…” She was crying now too.

“Brienne, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. My honour is beyond repair now, more than ever. But I want you to know, just in case this is my last chance to say it - I never lied to you about how I felt. I went to Winterfell because of you.” He had gone because she made him want to be a better person. A better person would keep their promise and fight for the living. He couldn’t bear to let himself, or her, down.

But beyond that, he went to be with her. He couldn’t admit it then, but he could now. He went for her.

“I stayed in Winterfell for you. And I left for you. If I hadn’t done everything I could to save Kings Landing, I would never have been able to live with myself. I needed to be free of regret and free of Cersei.” It hurt to say her name, but not as much as he’d expected. For her part, Brienne didn’t even flinch.

“Why did you let me think you were going back to her?” Her voice cracked like that night, back in Winterfell. His heart broke again. But this time, he wasn’t running away. He had to face her and be honest.

“Because I didn’t know what was going to happen. If I died, I didn’t want you to mourn for me. If she somehow managed to trick me into staying with her, fighting for her, I needed you to know it wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t running from you. I was running to her, though not how I led you to believe.”

“Why does everyone feel like they have to trick me? Tyrion could’ve just told me you were here. Arya could’ve told me you wanted to talk to me. You could’ve told me why you left. I would’ve been mad, but I wouldn’t have stopped you. I know what she meant to you. What your children meant to you. So, stop lying to me, alright?” She was yelling at him, but there was no heat behind her words.

“I promise, I’ll never do that again.” He stood and slowly walked around the table. She stood too, but didn’t run, which he took as a good sign.

“You have any other twins you need to tell me about?” She asked, taking a tentative step towards him. Instantly his chest felt like it was clear again and he could breathe deeply for the first time in years. He laughed as the tension disappeared and she answered him with a tiny smile. It was small, but it was there.

“I promise, the only Lannister’s left are me and Tyrion. Maybe a few distant cousins…” He approached her, carefully and slowly. He held his hands, well, hand up, right stump bare. She could still run him through and he wouldn’t blame her. But she didn’t.

He stood in front of her. She stared at him, giving nothing of how she was feeling on her face.

Slowly, Jaime knelt, until he was on one knee in front of her. He couldn’t bear to look at her face, so he stared at Oathkeeper. The jewelled lion seemed to stare back. 

“Brienne, I don’t expect you to forgive me, now or ever. But please know, I did what I thought was best. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, but I tried.”

“Do you promise never to do anything so damn stupid again?”

“I promise. If I ever hurt you again or break another oath, you have my permission to chop off my head with Oathkeeper.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” She huffed out a laugh. Jaime looked up, and saw her as she must have seen him, those many weeks ago when he’d knighted her. She was smiling down at him and he had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Brienne, will you....” He was cut off by a yell from the other side of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I haven't explained exactly that in this story, Rhaegal survived, but other than that, it's canon to the end of ep 4, including Missandei dying. Rhaegal survived because fuck the show, that's why. 
> 
> This was my fav chapter to write. I love these two together. Writing them finally in the same scene was a joy, but I'm not sure how well I've pulled it off. The next few chapters are also shaping up pretty well, I think. But I'm a little biased and have no perspective anymore. 
> 
> I can't decide which GOT actor I love the most. Gwen, Nikolaj, Maisie, Lena, Sophie, Peter, Emilia... They're all so insanely talented, beautiful and funny. I want to hug them all. Give them all the awards and shower them in happiness. 
> 
> Also Conleth is the hero we deserve. All hail the sassy man. 
> 
> I'm still mad at D&D. And I think I'm about to book to meet GRRM next year... I'm pretty excited. I will ask, but get no answers, I'm sure.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited and it feels so good?

Jaime wanted to scream but contented himself with a frustrated sigh instead.

“Are you both still alive in there?” Bronn yelled.

“Yes, we’re both alive,” Brienne answered.

“No one’s missing any more limbs?”

“All limbs present and accounted for.” Jaime yelled back.

“Alright, out you come then, you bloody idiots.”

The door opened and Arya, Tyrion, Bronn and Pod all piled in. They stopped dead at seeing Jaime kneeling before Brienne. He quickly stood, groaning at the pain that shot through his legs at having kneeled on the cold, stone floor for far longer than his old bones could take.

“So… You’re not going to kill each other?” Arya asked. She sounded almost disappointed. She’d grown up a little scary.

Jaime looked to Brienne for confirmation. She rolled her eyes.

“No, we’re not.”

“Glad to hear it.” Tyrion raised his glass to them and smiled, clearly satisfied with himself and his scheming.

Jaime ignored him and focussed instead on the other happy faces. Even Bronn seemed more cheerful than usual. This weird little group of people had become some of the most important people to not only him, but also the entirety of Westeros. It seemed unlikely, but it was true. And somehow, they cared that he wasn’t dead, though they had all, at one point or another, wished he was.

Life was strange sometimes.

* * *

 

Brienne was feeling like a mixed bag of emotions. On the one hand, Jaime was alive and some of the people she loved best in the world had conspired to bring them back together.

On the other, she still hadn’t quite forgiven him. She wasn’t angry anymore. But she didn’t know if she could trust him as openly as she had. He’d hurt her, worse than she’d ever been hurt before.

Logically, she knew that he’d left for a good reason. Or at least he’d thought it was at the time. She had to disagree, but maybe that was selfish. And the reason had been fairly extraordinary. It was unlikely he’d abandon her to ride off and kill another sibling/lover. Unless there were things he wasn’t telling her about Tyrion.

And yet, while she knew that, it didn’t stop her hesitation. She wanted to be able to let it go, she really did, but she couldn’t.

Now that they’d spoken again, she and Jaime spent a bit of time together. When she wasn’t at council meetings, training, sleeping or eating, she and Jaime spent their time wandering the Keep together. They hadn’t ventured outside the red stone walls yet, because Jaime was still too wary or being recognised and attacked. And after months of being cooped up, it meant he couldn’t keep up with her the way he used to. It was much like the beginning of the relationship, when he’d been malnourished and weak and she’d dragged him along.

They were also testing each other, like they had back in the beginning. But instead of trading insults and learning each other’s weak spots, they were testing out the boundaries of their shared history. Neither knew exactly what to say, what they could talk about and what to avoid. Jaime was stepping lightly, not making any reference to Cersei, their time in Winterfell or what he wanted to happen next.

She appreciated the effort, but it was also driving her crazy. Her Jaime wasn’t polite or cautious. He had never been polite to her, except those first days in Winterfell, before he’d asked to fight with her.

He’d barrelled into her life with insults and jokes and she missed it.

 

* * *

 

The royal wedding was less than a month away when Sansa arrived in Kings Landing. Brienne was glad for the distraction.

“Lady Sansa, Lord Gendry, I’m glad you’re here.” She’d greeted them at the gate. A small group of Northern men and Wildlings had accompanied them, for Jon’s wedding. Tormund was amongst them, but he stayed back, greeting her with a simple nod. She felt bad for him, but also relieved that he seemed to know when to give up. It was a skill she wished she’d learnt.

“Ser Brienne. How are you? The capital treating you well?” She grinned at Brienne. Sansa must have had ravens from Arya, because the look she gave Brienne was far too knowing.

Brienne blushed.

“The capital is not as bad as I remembered,” She replied.

“I’m very glad to hear it. If you find it no longer agrees with you, let myself or Arya know, and we can make sure it never annoys you again.” She said it rather jovially, but Brienne didn’t doubt for a second that either Stark girl would cut Jaime down in an instant if he decided to be an idiot again. It was sweet, in a terrifying way.

“Thank you, My Lady. I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s grown on me.” She gave a shy smile.

Gendry was looking between the women, clearly bewildered. It made both women laugh and he shook his head, happy that they weren’t dragging him into whatever madness they were currently sharing.

He was also trying to subtly look around, looking for something or someone. If he was looking for who Brienne thought he was looking for, he wouldn’t see her unless she wanted him to. He was a brave man and she had to admire that.

Tyrion met them at the Keep. Sansa greeted him with a smile, and to Brienne surprise, Tyrion took her hand, giving it a kiss, before leading the group through to the throne room. She knew that her lady and Tyrion had been trading correspondence, but for such a public act of affection was unlike them both. She was glad though.

Maybe the Lannister’s weren’t all bad.

 

* * *

 

The feast after Sansa arrived was fit for a queen. The dining hall was filled to overflowing and for the first time, Brienne convinced Jaime to join in the festivities. He was hesitant, but he knew that he’d eventually have to re-join the land of the living, so he gave in after only a short plea from both Brienne and Tyrion.

Having both his brother and his… whatever Brienne was now, ganging up on him was an uncomfortable feeling. It was weird to have other people involved in his relationship at all. He didn’t have to hide. He and Brienne often walked together, and while they weren’t affectionate, and he wasn’t pushing her to be so, it was a unique feeling to be seen walking and laughing with her. They didn’t have to worry about people talking or gossiping. For a start, they were both well known fighters. If anyone dared to say a word, it was far out of earshot.

They had spent several hours together since they’d been locked in a room together and forced to talk. But they hadn’t really talked since. They were acting as they did before the Battle for the Dawn. They were acting like simple friends.

Jaime wasn’t going to push Brienne into anything she was uncomfortable with. But he couldn’t help feeling that he wanted to know whether she ever saw them revisiting those weeks in Winterfell. His hopes were up, but as the days passed and she gave no indication that she felt anything beyond friendship, his optimism was waning.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers. He was lucky he wasn’t dead and lucky that she deigned to even look at him after everything he’d put her through.

There was a time when the thought of being seen around the Red Keep with her would have scared him. But he couldn’t be ashamed of their relationship now and he didn’t have to worry about his insanely jealous sister hurting her.

He couldn’t believe he’d used to sneer at her and think she was ugly. She wasn’t the same type of beauty as Sansa or Daenerys. Or even Arya, in her own way. But what Brienne had above all of them was a radiance. She radiated kindness and goodness. And she might be taller and have more muscles than him, but he didn’t find he cared. She was the bravest, sweetest and most honourable person he’d ever met. If someone couldn’t see that, that was their problem.

And she seemed to like him. He didn’t know how he got so lucky. Getting dragged around Westeros by her might have been the best thing that ever happened to him.

She met him outside his new quarters, which were across from hers and next to Tyrion’s. She had dressed up for the feast. She wasn’t wearing a dress, because not even the Seven themselves could make that happen, but she was wearing a beautiful red silk shirt, with some embroidered stars on the collar. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Jaime had likewise dressed up for his reintroduction into society. He wore a red shirt, darker than hers, and a black waistcoat. He trimmed his beard and had Pod cut his hair back to a more respectable length. He could almost be mistaken for a lord again.

She smiled at him shyly and they walked to the feast together. Jaime fought the urge to take her arm as they walked.

No one noticed them arriving, too busy laughing and drinking. He wasn’t used to being ignored. He found he liked it. He wasn’t revered, feared or hated. He was just Jaime.

They found a seat near the front of the room. They could see the main table, where the king, queen and other high lords and ladies sat. Tyrion sat to Daenerys’s left, beside him was Sansa. Like they had since Sansa had arrived in Kings Landing, they sat close together, whispering about something or other. Jaime felt sorry for whoever was going to be on the receiving end of their newest scheme. The last one ended well for him, but if those two decided to put their skills to nefarious purposes, they were all doomed.

Tyrion seemed happy. Probably more content than Jaime had ever seen him. He’d earned people’s respect. He was no longer the Lannister Imp, or hideous monster. He didn’t have their father and sister looking down on him, literally or figuratively. He was Hand to the new rulers of Westeros, a war hero and seemed to be courting Sansa, a strong, beautiful woman and the Lady of Winterfell. Jaime couldn’t have seen that coming, but he was happy for him.

Arya sat on Jon’s right, next to her was the new Lord Baratheon. Jaime had to admit that he liked the new Baratheon a lot more than he’d liked Robert. And not just because he wasn’t fucking his sister and raising his children. Though perhaps that had some bearing on it. Gendry was a skilled fighter and blacksmith and seemed a decent man. He’d come from nothing and now he was a lord. Westeros had certainly changed.

Arya and Gendry seemed to be together, but unlike most of the couples around the hall, they weren’t overly demonstrative about it. Still, he caught them stealing glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Young love…

Of course, Jaime knew he was just as pathetic, stealing glances at Brienne. She looked happy and relaxed. It was all very reminiscent of the feast after the battle. But he wasn’t going to let himself think about that night too much. He’d been bolder that night than ever before. He’d charged headlong at a ferocious dragon, and even that had been easier than knocking on Brienne’s door and subtly asking if she was interested. Thankfully, she’d been braver than him and took charge, undressing them both.

Pod joined them, sitting beside Brienne. He was looking very fancy, also in new clothes. He’d lost the chubby faced innocence of youth that he’d had when Jaime had gifted him to Brienne’s service. He’d become a man and it was making Jaime feel ancient in comparison. It seemed hard to believe that Pod was closer in age to Brienne than he was. Pod was glancing at a young dark-haired lady sat a few tables over. Jaime remembered her as the daughter of one of the Northern men, Westerling. Apparently, their time in the North had an impact on the young man.

The room around them was buzzing, but Jaime sat in silence. It felt like the world was moving around him, but he was frozen. He’d survived so many unsurvivable things, and here he was. Free for the first time since he’d become a knight at 16. He didn’t know what he was going to do with the rest of his life.

But what about Brienne? Every future he considered were hazy, because everything hinged on her now. If she ordered him out of her sight, he’d go back to the Westerlands. The Rock was his now by rights. If she wanted him to stay with her, he’d follow her. Winterfell, Tarth, Kings Landing, wherever she wanted. He’d spent his life dedicated to a woman, following her every order. It seemed a habit he couldn’t break. But unlike Cersei, Brienne would never demand he break his vows, or hurt innocents.

He didn’t know what to expect, but they had time to figure it out. At least, he hoped they did.

The room quietened as Daenerys stood. She demanded no attention, but the room hushed of its own accord, sensing an important announcement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are there so many talented writers out there? This fandom is so talented, I swear.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany gives her speech, Tyrion is Tyrion, Jaime is handsome and Brienne gets tongue tied.

“Ladies, Lords, Dothraki, Unsullied, Wildlings and smallfolk, you are most welcome. As you all know, King Jon and I will be married within the month,” She paused to smile at her soon to be husband, who smiled a rare, genuine smile back, “But it is now my great pleasure to announce a few other nuptials that will follow ours.”

As was tradition, the liege lord for each house had to be petitioned for approval of each betrothal amongst their subjects. However, with such disarray in the shadow of the war, Jon and Daenerys had personally approved each petition.

The list went on and on and Jaime tuned it out but clapped along as appropriate. Some of the Lannister men were among the betrothed and he was happy that, despite the near extinction of the Lannister house, the bannermen and his distant relations were still alive and well.

He wasn’t at all surprised by the long list of upcoming marriages. War always bred new relationships and in about a year, he expected the next generation would be well and truly underway. He wouldn’t be surprised if new babes began appearing within the next few months.

He looked to Brienne, who was clapping along with everyone else. She seemed to recognise more names than he did, and she gave a few smiles to those sat nearby. She radiated happiness for them all.

He had never dreamt of marriage. Cersei had, of course. She’d dreamt of marrying Rhaegar, though now knowing more about him, Jaime was glad he’d married Elia Martell instead. Poor beautiful, delicate Elia. A true noble woman and rare beauty. Jaime never stopped thinking about what he could’ve done differently to save her and her children. It haunted him. A lot of things haunted him. 

Rhaegar had been a good man… Mostly. Brave, honourable, kind, empathetic. Until he wasn't. Until he gave it all up. Everything that he left behind was misery. All because he loved someone he shouldn’t.

Lyanna Stark had been strong, a female warrior, passionate, determined and beautiful, in a boyish way. Rhaegar had been drawn to her, because she was confident in who she was and tough as steel. He obviously couldn’t let her go nor her let go of him, no matter if it hurt them and everyone around them.

Jaime couldn’t help but empathise.

 

* * *

 

Brienne had almost swooned at the sight of the handsome knight that was her escort for the welcome feast. In his fancy clothes, groomed and gaining back his strength, she couldn’t help but think Jaime had never looked better. The silver mixed with gold in his hair and beard gave him a more distinguished air and she could barely keep her eyes off him. Yet she tried, because she still wasn’t sure where they stood and didn’t want to encourage something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

Brienne listened as Daenerys rattled off name after name of the newly betrothed. It was a mixture, from Wildling to nobles. It was refreshing to see the changes in Westeros. No longer were people mingling only within their kingdom. The people were free to love whoever they wanted.

There were no Unsullied amongst the betrothed, which didn’t surprise Brienne at all, since the only Unsullied she’d seen in love was Grey Worm. Since Missandei was killed, she knew that the likelihood of one of their ranks marrying was slim. It broke her heart and she wondered what they wanted, now the fighting was done. 

The Dothraki also weren’t the marrying kind, except the Khal’s, for the alliances and heirs. Maybe that would change as they adapted to the Westeros way of life. If they adapted. She wasn’t quite sure how that would work, but she hoped it would. They didn’t need another rebellion on their hands.

Jaime seemed to have lost interest in the nuptials, as he was staring off into space. It made sense. He didn’t seem to care for marriage and had taken a now defunct oath to never take a wife. He could, if he wanted. He was no longer part of the kingsguard, since Tommen had dismissed him and the new monarchs were unlikely to reinstate him. But she didn’t suppose it mattered that he _could_. A life oath was a big commitment and if he’d meant it then, he obviously didn’t want it now.

She tried not to feel anything about that.

Daenerys finished her list, before turning to her left. Sansa nodded back at her.

“The last union is special for several reasons. One half is soon to be my cousin. The other half is a beloved friend and advisor. They are both dear to myself and Jon,” Jon nodded his agreement, “And we wish them nothing but happiness. It is an unusual situation, having been previously married. But they wish to make it official once more. Lord Tyrion Lannister and Lady Sansa Stark are to wed two weeks after myself and my king.”

The reaction around the hall was a mixed one. Some looked confused, some had seen it coming and some seemed entirely indifferent. Still, the cheers and clapping were louder than it had been for any other couple.

Brienne looked at Jaime, who looked just as dumbfounded as she felt. While they knew they'd become close, the marriage seemed hasty. But looking at them now, they were both smiling joyfully. Brienne was glad her lady finally had a choice in her future and wasn’t being forced into another political marriage.

Once the clapping died down, Daenerys raised her glass.

“To the future of Westeros. May we all be free and happy.”

Everyone hastened to their feet and toasted the proclamation.

Brienne and Jaime retook their seats. They shared a look.

“You didn’t know?” Brienne asked.

“Not a clue. She’s his type, that’s for sure,” young, beautiful, strong willed, smart, “And I knew they were getting along, but marriage… I didn’t think Tyrion would ever marry again.”

“I thought the same of Sansa. She hasn’t exactly had a wonderful track record, Tyrion included. But she's grown into a stubborn woman. I doubt anyone could get her to do anything without her permission these days. She deserves contentment and Tyrion has obviously proven himself worthy of her respect and affection.” Sansa wouldn’t waste her time on any man that wasn’t.

“Proven himself?” He asked, looking a little confused.

“He’s kind to her, brave, respected, smart… He’s a good man.” She could see Tyrion was a changed man from who he had been, as a drunken philanderer. She hadn’t known him then, but she’d heard more than enough tales from Pod and the rest of Westeros to know he hadn’t always been the man he was now.

“He did kill our father, you know that, right?” He asked, seemingly incredulous.  

“I’m aware of that.” She shrugged.

 _‘He wasn’t the only person that wanted your father dead though’_ remained unsaid, but was received loud and clear regardless.

“Is that all a man has to do to be considered worthy of a lady’s love? Be kind, brave, respected?” He was looking at her intensely and she couldn’t stand it. She looked to Pod who was still silent beside her. He merely shrugged and began eating the meal that had been placed before him.

“It depends on the lady. For Sansa, yes, that’s all she needs,” She paused. He was still watching her, waiting. She knew what he wanted, so she carefully continued.

“For me, those things are important, but more important is trust. Trust that the person you care for won’t hurt you. Trust they care for you enough that they will be there for you.” She saw him deflate and felt guilty for hurting him, but it was true.

She had trusted Jaime. She’d trusted him ever since that night in Locke’s camp. He’d proven himself trustworthy and honourable, even when they were on opposite sides. She’d said they needed trust to have a truce, back in the baths of Harrenhal. She’d already trusted him then. But she’d been surprised when he said he trusted her too. And then he’d proven it. He’d been vulnerable, told her the truth about Aerys and trusted her to fish him out of the baths when he passed out. She hadn't doubted the trust between them since. 

Until he abandoned her. 

Did she still trust him now? Yes and no. She’d trust him to guard her back in battle a thousand times.

But did she trust him with her heart again? No. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Trust? And how would someone earn your trust, Ser Brienne?” He searched her face desperately.

“I don’t know.”

They are their meals in silence.

 

* * *

 

Tyrion was the man of the hour. He was soon separated from his betrothed, as he toured the room, being congratulated by everyone and anyone. A man marrying a woman 13 years his junior wasn’t too unusual in noble circles, but in this case, Tyrion being a dwarf, with a facial disfigurement, it was almost completely unbelievable to most people. Especially given that he was marrying a highborn lady, whose beauty and brains were renowned. To be honest, he still didn’t believe it himself.

But they’d been through a lot together. And he’d always had a soft spot for her. She’d been so innocent when they’d first met, and he’d seen her rise to the strong, powerful woman she was now. She’d fought for everything she had, literally. He was proud of her. He had thought his admiration was one sided. But apparently it hadn’t been.

She didn’t care about how he looked. She didn’t care about his past, about what he’d done wrong... The many, many things he'd done wrong. She cared only that he cared for her. He’d protected her when he could, giving her advice and support. When they’d been married the first time, she’d feared him, but he’d shown he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t like Joffrey or Cersei. He was sarcastic and cynical, but only because he needed to be. The world had hurt him.

He received slaps on the back from the Dothraki, courteous words from the nobles, crude jokes from the soldiers and confused, but polite bows from the Unsullied. When he finally slumped down beside his brother, across from Pod and Brienne, he had been toasted and toasted himself to the point of near blind drunkenness.

“Congratulations, My Lord,” the Brienne shaped haze said.

“Congratulations, Lord Tyrion,” the Pod-like blob added.

“Why didn’t you tell me, you sneaky little bastard?” The vague figure of Jaime grumbled.

“It only just happened this morning. I could barely believe it. I still can’t. When she asked me I almost fainted.” His voice was slurred and slow.

“She asked you?” Brienne asked incredulously.

“I know. I'm pathetic. But yes, she proposed. God knows I wouldn’t have had the balls.” He stole a cup of wine off the table, uncaring who its previous owner had been. At the sound of Jaime's sigh, he deduced it must have been his.

“So who's next then? Pod, I've seen you canoodling with that young Lady Westerling.” The Pod blob turned red and spluttered out a weak protest.

“She’s not… We’re not…”

“Alright, alright. Calm down, Pod, before you explode. What about you then Brienne? When’re you proposing?”

 

* * *

 

Brienne stopped breathing. She was almost sure her lungs had disappeared altogether. Why couldn’t she and Tyrion have one conversation that didn’t end in him humiliating her? She knew he wasn’t being malicious. But apparently drink had a bad effect on him.

“Ser Jaime and I… We aren’t…” She stuttered, sounding like Pod had only seconds earlier. Jaime was looking at her, pain clear in his eyes, even if his face was impassive.

“I think I’m going to retire for the night,” Jaime said as he stood, “And I’ll take Tyrion with me. It’s obvious he’s overindulged enough for one night.” Tyrion groggily looked up at his brother.

“Come on Jaime,” He whined, “I was just joking. I’m fine.”

Jaime sighed and hoisted his brother out of his seat, placing him on the floor. Tyrion swayed on unsteady legs. He was clearly not fine.

“Good night, Ser, Podrick.” He gently nudged Tyrion forwards and Brienne could only watch them go.

She could tell Pod was watching her, so she turned to him. He didn’t say anything, but she could tell he wanted to.

“What is it, Podrick?” She snapped.

“Nothing, Ser.” But she could tell it wasn’t nothing. Whatever he wanted to say was clearly something that would be considered impolite, so he was holding himself back.

“You can say whatever it is. Just spit it out.”

He looked sceptical, but he hesitantly asked “Why are you and Ser Jaime still not together? I thought you loved each other?”

Pod had grown up and become a brave man, but Brienne forgot that he wasn’t experienced with matters of the heart. Though neither was she.

“Pod, it’s not that we don’t… It’s not as simple as that.” She sighed.

“Why not? Why can’t it be simple? Eleyna and I, I mean,” His face was red and he was grinning shyly, “Lady Eleyna, are going to start courting, once I ask for her father’s permission. Ser Jaime doesn’t have a father anymore. You can court him if you want to.”

Brienne had a wild thought of asking the terrifying Tywin Lannister for permission to court his son and was struck by the ridiculousness of the entire situation. She almost wanted to laugh.

“Pod, maybe one day you’ll understand, although I hope you don’t.” She never wanted him to be hurt the way she was hurt and she would hurt anyone who tried.

“I just want you to be happy. Ser Jaime too,” He said. And Brienne knew he meant it. She had the strange desire to hug him, but she instead patted his back as she rose.

“I’m going to go to bed. It’s been a long day. Good night.”

She left the hall and trudged through the Keep. Various people lined the corridors. Couples, friends sharing drinks, lost revelers all hid in the alcoves and behind pillars. But the farther she ventured from the dining hall, the quieter it became and she could finally let herself relax and let the feelings she’d suppressed all evening come to her.

Two voices interrupted her brooding as she came to the last staircase before her rooms. Her heart stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have officially booked my tickets. I am going to be spending some time in the company of GRRM himself in New Zealand next year. Anyone got any questions for him that I can ask him that he won't answer?  
> I'm probably going to end up begging for Jaime's redemption. Someone needs to be there to stop me from making a fool of myself.  
> Anyway, D&D are still dead to me.  
> Oh, and I have 4 more chapters already written. Maybe three more to go after that? My stories always get away from me, but this will be finished. I promise.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Tyrion are good bros. Brienne and Jaime start to deal with their feelings in an adult way. It's a miracle, people.

The walk back towards their rooms seemed to take an age, with Tyrion stumbling every second step of the way. Jaime was tempted to just pick his brother up and carry him, but he didn’t fancy having his best clothes ruined by second-hand wine.

“Tyrion, why do you always have to make my life difficult?” Jaime was angry, frustrated and wounded. He and Brienne had been getting along fine. Not as well as he’d have liked, obviously, but they were making progress. He was behaving himself, not forcing the issue of the fact he was head over heels in love with her. He’d thought that maybe tonight, with a little bit of wine, celebration and relaxation, they could talk. Nothing more, just talk about their future. But the combined stupidity of the Lannister brothers ensured she’d probably never want to speak to him again. To be honest, he didn’t blame her.

“I’m sorry, Jaime. I really am, alright? I didn’t mean to make your lady knight so uncomfortable, but we all know you’re completely in love with each other,” He slurred. He had sobered slightly on the hike back to their rooms, but he was still drunker than Jaime had ever been. Jaime was glad he was a little bit tipsy, because dealing with a drunk Tyrion was painful. Dealing with losing Brienne was 1000 times more painful. The alcohol took the slightest edge off. 

He wasn't looking forward to waking up the next morning. 

“Can you please just stop? Brienne is being kind and courteous, and that’s more than I deserve. She’s just too nice to tell me to fuck off.”

“You aren’t back together?” That seemed to pull Tyrion further out of his drunken stupor. He stopped halfway up the staircase to their rooms. Jaime stopped at the top and looked back down on him.

“No, we’re not. And I don’t think we ever will be. We’re friends and sometimes I think we’re getting close to being… Something. But I hurt her, and I don’t think she can ever forgive me, no matter how much I wish she would. How could she love me after all I’ve put her through? I’m an old, broken, stupid, lying traitor.”

“Jaime, you’re an idiot.” It was short and slurred and it made Jaime want to laugh and cry.

“I know, I just said so, didn't I?” He sighed.

“Have you apologised?” Tyrion asked, like maybe Jaime hadn’t thought of that.

“Of course, I bloody have! Otherwise she would’ve killed me long before now. But apologising isn’t enough. She doesn’t trust me or want me and I don’t blame her.” He was pouting. He knew he was, but he didn't care. 

“So, do something to show her how much you love her.”

“Like what? Give her a priceless Valyrian steel sword with our house sigil on the hilt so every time she uses it, she thinks of me? Give her the best armour money could buy to protect her? Commit treason? Knight her? Kiss her? Worship her body like the warrior goddess she is? What more could I possibly do?” His voice was rising, but he needed to let it out. Luckily, they were in a secluded part of the Keep and unlikely to be overheard. 

“How about not leave her devastated that you left in the middle of the night to go back to our bitch of a sister?” Tyrion replied snidely.

“Shut up. She knows why I did it and she still can’t forgive me. I lied to her. If I’d told her the truth, maybe things would be different. But I lied to her and left her thinking I didn’t care about her. When I care too much. I love her. I’d rather lose my other hand than lose her again. I'd die for her.” He sat on the top stair. Tyrion walked up to sit beside him. Their arms rested against each other.  

“Have you told her that?”

“No, of course I haven’t. I like my head on my shoulders,” He scoffed. 

“Sansa and I have been communicating since I left Winterfell. We sent so many letters that the birds scatter when they see me, so they don’t have to fly North again. Sometimes I sent two or three letters a day.”

“And?” Jaime failed to see how this was anything to do with their current conversation.

“Do you know what Sansa has been through since she left Kings Landing the first time we were married?”

“Enough.” He hated to think of what had happened to the young girl he had once known to make her the icy statue of a woman she was now. Nobody should have to go through what she went through. It made his blood boil. 

“When we first married, she was terrified of me. I don’t blame her. And I couldn’t protect her. Everything she’s been through has made her understandably wary. She doesn’t trust easily. I’ve had to earn every scrap of trust. Just treating her as a fellow human is more than many have done for her. She’s been a cyvasse piece in many people’s games and I hate it. But not anymore. I won’t let her be hurt again.”

Jaime looked at his brother and saw for the first time how much he cared for Sansa. His voice had raised, his eyes becoming sharp. He looked fierce. Like a lion.

“She’s lucky to have you.”

“That’s not the point. How many people do you think have treated Brienne like a beautiful woman? How many have treated her with the respect of a knight?”

Jaime thought back to their first meeting. He’d spat his insults. And he’d continued to abuse her for months. She’d shrugged it off, like it was nothing. Every time anyone insulted her, which happened all the time, she ignored it. At the time, he’d wondered at her confidence. But it wasn’t confidence. It was the façade she wore, like he wore _‘Kingslayer’_. She hid behind indifference like he hid behind arrogance.

He’d never really thought about exactly how much Brienne had been through to make her like she was. At least, not in those terms.

“Not many.”

“If you love her like you say you do, then earn her trust. Do anything you have to do. For as long as it takes. She's worth it.” Jaime wondered when his little brother had become wise, as well as smart.

“I’m trying. But I miss her. I miss her so much. I love her. I would marry her in a heartbeat, if she’d let me. But she won't even let me touch her.” His mouth ran away from him. He was must have been drunker than he’d thought.

He wanted to cry from remembering how it felt to live with Brienne in Winterfell. Waking up together. Falling asleep in her arms. Talking with her about everything and nothing. Fucking her. Leaving her had nearly killed him.

“Be patient. Show her you care and won't leave again. But for now, I need to piss and pass out.” Tyrion hoisted himself back onto shaky legs. Jaime followed and they both retired to their rooms.

 

* * *

 

Brienne woke early the next day. Now that Sansa was in the capital, she was back on duty as her sworn sword. While the capital was safe, Brienne wasn’t going to take any chances. She also missed having a job to do and she missed Sansa. Sansa's calm, in control demeanour always helped to soothe Brienne's anxiety. 

She met Sansa in her quarters. If she’d thought her quarters were nice, Sansa’s were twice as large and had a balcony overflowing with flowers that looked out over the capital. It was fit for a queen.

“Good morning, My Lady,” Brienne bowed, “Do we have plans for today?”

“Good morning, Brienne. Today, we are preparing for the upcoming weddings.”

Arya, who once again appeared as if from nowhere, seemed less than thrilled with that, rolling her eyes. Brienne couldn’t help but agree but tried not to show it.

Breakfast was served for the three women, so they sat to eat.

“How about Brienne and I go on a hunt?” Arya proposed. The look that Sansa shot at her in reply would be enough to cause a lesser woman to give in, but of course, Arya was not a regular woman.

 “Arya, you’ll understand when it’s your turn to get married.” Sansa smiled indulgently at her younger sister.

“Ha! I’m never getting married,” Arya replied nonchalantly. She was twirling her knife, before stabbing her breakfast rather viciously. Brienne had to admire her dexterity. Arya was a different type of fighter and Brienne wanted to learn some of her tricks. She’d have to ask her at some point.

“I thought you and Lord Gendry were looking quite cosy,” Sansa needled.

“So? Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean we’re getting married.” She shrugged.

Sansa looked as scandalised as Brienne felt.

“But he’s a lord and you’re a lady. You can’t just not get married,” She argued.

“Says who?”

“Says everyone! Brienne, am I right?” Brienne panicked to be stuck between the sisters squabbling.

“It is traditional for lords to marry. If you aren’t, your children will be bastards and be unable to inherit Storm’s End.” She looked apologetically at Arya.

“Jon can legitimise whoever he wants. Besides, children? Ugh. No thanks.” Arya replied.

Sansa shook her head and sighed. She had clearly given up. Brienne got the feeling this was how they’d been growing up together. Again, a pang of envy struck her, wishing her brother and sisters were alive to bicker with.

“What about you and Ser Jaime?” Arya turned to Brienne.

“Ser Jaime and I?” She asked, voice cracking.

“Aren’t you getting married?” She asked it so casually that Brienne knew she meant no offense, but she was lucky she hadn’t been drinking, or she would’ve choked. As it was, she felt herself blushing so deeply she knew she resembled a tomato. 

“I don’t know…” Brienne trailed off. She didn’t know how she felt. After what she’d heard last night, her heart and mind were at war.

Sansa clearly heard the conflict in her voice, because she turned to her sister.

“Arya, how about you go…” Sansa was cut off.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be back in about an hour.” Arya was out the door before Brienne could blink.

“She’s not great with romance or emotions. She never has been. Just wait until Jon hears she’s not getting married...”

Brienne knew how protective of his cousins Jon was. Especially Arya. She hoped Gendry wasn’t easily scared, because Jon had a dragon and an army.

“Brienne, can I ask, what’s going on between you and Ser Jaime?” Sansa asked kindly.

“Nothing. I mean, we’re friends. I think.” She looked at the remains of her breakfast, suddenly no longer hungry.

“Just friends?” Sansa asked kindly.

“Yes.” Her voice sounded weak and pathetic, she knew it did. So much for her being able to hide her feelings. When it came to Jaime, she feared the whole world could see how she felt.

Sansa reached over and took Brienne’s hand. Brienne looked up to see nothing but understanding in her Lady’s eyes. She didn’t have a sibling to share her joy and pain with. But she did have Sansa. And that was close enough. She wasn't sure when they passed the formalities, but they were closer now than just lady and knight. She trusted Sansa enough to tell her the truth.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him.” She whispered.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation. She wanted to forget the hurt and be with him like they had at Winterfell for those few blissful weeks. But it wasn't that easy.

“Then what’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know. He promised he wouldn’t hurt me again. He told Tyrion that he’d rather lose his other hand than lose me again... But he lied to me. How do I know if he’s lying now?” She’d believed in his honour, even when everyone else thought him dishonourable. And yet he’d proven himself dishonourable towards her, by stealing her heart and breaking it, lying to her and leaving her.

“Why would he lie about that?”

“I don’t know. To sleep with me?” Even as she said it, it sounded ridiculous. She wasn’t the type of woman men lied to sleep with. She’d long ago resigned herself to never being with a man. But then along came Jaime and everything had changed. She’d changed. Because of him.

Besides, he was a beautiful man, a hero to some. If he needed someone to keep him company, she was sure there were many women who'd throw themselves at him. She had. Apparently, a knighthood was what her virtue was worth.

And yet, she couldn’t regret it. He made her forget herself and she hated it, but she couldn’t stop loving him, even if he hated himself. Even after everything. He'd broken her heart and she wanted him to be the one to fix it.

“Brienne, everyone can see that what he feels for you is more than that.” She said it like it was a simple fact, like the sky being blue.

“He told Lord Tyrion that he loves me.”

“He hasn’t told you that he loves you?” Sansa looked appalled.

“No. I overheard them last night. They were talking about me,” She paused and added “and you.”

“About me?” Sansa looked wary, like maybe she didn’t want to hear what the brothers had been saying when they were alone. But Brienne also knew she was curious.

“Tyrion cares for you deeply.” Brienne assured her. A small, shy smile graced Sansa’s face.

“And I care for him. It’s more than just an advantageous political alliance and a way to make myself unavailable to any suitors.” She stopped. She seemed lost in thought for a moment, her delicate face scrunched in contemplation, before slowly continuing, “After all I’ve been through, it’s hard to imagine someone caring about me with no ulterior motive. But I believe he does. And I just have to trust in that. It will take time for me to fully trust him, and I don’t know if I can ever truly be with him as a husband and wife should be.” A shadow darkened her eyes at the memories of what she’d been through.

“But he’s the only person that I can ever imagine trusting in that way, even in the future. He’s proven he cares for me, by not forcing himself on me after our first wedding. He treated me with nothing but kindness then, and he’s a better man now. He’s the best of men.” She had tears in her eyes, but blinked them back. Brienne squeezed the hand still in hers and it earned her a fierce smile. She was so strong. Brienne didn’t know if she could survive what she did.

Brienne had never seen Sansa appear anything but stoic. The fact Sansa trusted her enough to let her guard down humbled her. 

“What if you can never fully trust him? What about heirs?” Brienne asked. As Lady of Winterfell, it fell to her to provide heirs. Arya and Bran wouldn’t and couldn’t provide the next Stark generation. The same was true of her, as heir to Tarth.

“I don’t know. But I do know that no matter what, he won’t force me to do anything I don’t want. He will always put my comfort and happiness first. Do you believe the same of Ser Jaime?”

Brienne thought it over for a moment, wondering if there was anyone else that she could ever imagine spending her life with, now or in the future. But it always came back to Jaime. Everyone else would always pale in comparison.

“I do. These past few days, I can see that he wants more. He wants it to be like we were in Winterfell.” She blushed, but Sansa didn’t seem to be embarrassed. “But he’s kept his distance. He’s been nothing but honourable and polite.”

“You deserve to be loved. You are the most selfless person I have ever met. Ser Jaime is not the person I would have chosen for you, and I don’t think he deserves you, but if he makes you happy, then that’s all that matters.” The Stark had no love lost between themselves and the Lannister’s. Tyrion was the only exception. She hoped maybe one day Jaime could be too, for her own sake.

“He did make me happy.”

“Brienne, you are the bravest person I know. Loving means taking a risk. Are you brave enough to take that risk again?” She gave Brienne’s hand one last squeeze before standing.

“I think so.”

“Then go and seize happiness, However, my offer to have him taken care of still stands. If he hurts you at all, all of the Starks are behind you and the North remembers.” Brienne looked at her to see the Lady of Winterfell again, not the young, vulnerable woman she had been a moment ago.

Brienne wished she could have even an ounce of Sansa's strength.

 

* * *

 

Jaime was back to staring aimlessly out his chamber window. The view was slightly to the left of what he’d become accustomed to, now he had rooms of his own beside Tyrion’s, but it was much the same as always. It was familiar and almost comforting.

Since Sansa and her retinue had arrived, Jaime knew that Brienne wouldn’t have much free time anymore. Duty would compel her to be at her lady’s side at all times. That meant that their time together was running out. Sansa would return to the North when the weddings were done, and Brienne would go with her. Unless something changed, Jaime would be staying in the capital with Tyrion, or taking up the mantle of Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock, if Tyrion didn’t want it.

He sighed and poured himself another glass of wine. He looked out at the bustling city. He saw the Northern men and Wildlings amongst the smallfolk. The giant red headed man was with them. He hadn’t anticipated seeing him again. He was glad to see Brienne was nowhere near him, but he supposed that was none of his business now.

He settled himself in for a long day of pining when a knock came at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently writing chapter 16. It's now upwards of 33,000 words. Oops. This thing ran away from me. And Jaime talks A LOT. He's lucky I love him. It would be wrong to have Brienne gag him for a few chapters, yeah?
> 
> You know how some characters just demand to be in the story, even though you really didn't plan on it? Tyrion keeps popping up and, while I love him, he's taking over. I have another character appear in a few chapters time who I genuinely didn't intend to write in at all, but they just popped up and wouldn't leave me alone, so they're in the story now, whether I like it or not. 
> 
> Who's at the door? You could guess, but the list of who it could be is quite small. But if you do guess correctly, I'll give you a virtual high five.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite pining knights take a big step forward. Everything is going smoothly for once.

“Who is it?” Jaime yelled at the door.

“It’s Ser Brienne.”

“Just a moment.” He stood and hurriedly put on a shirt, running his hand through his hair trying to tame it. He hadn’t anticipated seeing anyone, especially not Brienne. He must look a wreck after the previous night.

He opened the door, pretending to be unruffled and casual. She stood tall and determined before him. She was in knight mode. Combined with the formal address, he wondered what she wanted, because it didn’t seem to be a social call. His already racing heart began to pick up pace. 

“May I help you, Ser?” He asked, trying to stop his voice from wavering.

“May I come in?”

He was confused but moved aside so she could move past him into his chambers. He looked around, seeing the mess as if through her eyes. He’d been too tired and despondent to clean or have a maid clean for him. Nor had he cleaned himself. If he hadn’t been seeing her every second day, and had his hair cut for last night’s feast, he doubted he’d look any better than he had the first time they met.

She thankfully ignored the clothes strewn about and the stale aroma of an unaired room and turned to face him. For the first time since knocking on  the door she seemed uncertain. When she didn’t say anything, Jaime wandered over to the window, picked up his wine, and began drinking it like water. She looked horrified.

“Would you like some?” He offered. He wasn’t sure he had a second cup anywhere, but he would give her his if she wanted.

“It’s not even noon yet.” The scandalised look on her face almost made him want to laugh, but the prospect of having his heart broken dampened the impulse.

“Suit yourself.” He sat in his chair and stared out at the city again, pretending to ignore her. If she had something to say, she’d say it soon enough.

He knew he should be apologising, but he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. She’d never forgive him, and she’d be gone soon, back to Winterfell. There didn’t seem to be a point in grovelling and making a bigger fool out of himself when she had already decided he was unforgivable.

“Jaime, I need you to look at me.” She commanded. He turned in his chair just enough to look at her in his periphery. She huffed.

“Why are you so difficult?” She grumbled.

“It’s just my nature, I’m afraid. Difficult, dumb, despicable, disgusting...” If she was waiting for him to be an active and useful participant in the conversation, she’d was going to have to be disappointed.

“I overheard you and Lord Tyrion last night. In the stairwell.” His heart stopped and he furiously tried to remember everything they’d said. They’d both been drunk enough to say things they wouldn’t if they’d been sober. He couldn’t remember saying anything too offensive or untoward, but if she was here to tell him to get lost, he must have said something bad. He decided that like most things, he’d laugh it off.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice. You were in the stairwell to our chambers.” His raised eyebrow made her blush. “I mean my chambers. And your chambers. Our separate chambers.”

He couldn’t help but think she was adorable when she was flustered.

“Ser, do you have a point? I’m trying to waste my day away and you’re ruining those plans.” He could see that every word was infuriating her more and more. It was familiar and it made him smile. Which only made her madder.

“Can you be serious for one second?” She stormed over to him and grabbed the goblet out of his hand.

“Excuse me? I was drinking that.” She drank every last drop in the cup and placed it back on the table with a thump. He could see she regretted it, the cheap alcohol making her eyes water. Thank the Seven the cup hadn’t been full.

“I thought you didn’t want any?” He taunted.

“Shut up and listen to me.” They stared at each other. Her eyes were blazing and the sun streaming through the window was lighting up her hair like a golden crown. She looked angry and he’d never seen her look sexier, standing over him at her full height, ready to fight. He nodded for her to continue, mouth too dry to say a word.

“I heard you talking to Tyrion about us. And I spoke to Sansa this morning.”

“What did the lovebirds have to say?” He was mocking. She ignored it.

“They helped me realise that I’m making you miserable. I'm making us both miserable.” Her anger had apparently turned to sadness and he rushed to comfort her.

“You aren’t, Brienne.” She looked unconvinced. “Truly. Any pain I’m feeling is entirely self-inflicted. I deserve your disdain.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t deserve disdain from anyone. You helped save the seven kingdoms. Twice. And here I am selfishly hating you for it. It’s not fair.” She looked away from him, seemingly to collect her thoughts.

“Life isn’t fair, Brienne. You and I both know that.” He held up his still naked stump as proof. Her eyes landed back on his, softer this time.

“We do. But I don’t have to make your life harder for no reason.”

“Please, Brienne. Don’t pity me. Hate me. Despise me. Wish me dead. Plenty of other people do,” Himself included. But he didn’t say that. “But don’t pity me. I’m not worth it.” He’d had enough of being pitied since he’d lost his hand. He didn’t need her joining in. He didn’t thing he could stand it.

“I don’t pity you. I don’t hate you…” She paused and took a deep breath. “I love you.” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked up at her. Nothing in her face betrayed a lie. She was smiling down on him gently, with mercy, like The Mother herself.

It was unlike Brienne to lie. But the other option, that she was telling the truth, was even more unbelievable.

His heart leapt with hope, but he stamped it down. She deserved so much better.

“You don’t have to say that. I know you can’t trust me. You can go back to Winterfell with a clear conscience. You have made no vows or oaths to me. And if you did, I would’ve broken them first by abandoning you. I’m the oathbreaker. Not you.” He spat the words, remembering all the times the insults of oathbreaker and Kingslayer had been hurled at him. Even by Brienne. Those had hurt the worst, but he hadn’t understood why at the time. It had taken him far too long to see what was right in front of him.

“Jaime, listen to me. You deserve love. And I love you. Yes, you hurt me and I can’t trust you like I used to. But I know that I can again, in time. No relationship is perfect. But I'm willing to try to make us work.” She knelt on the floor in front of him. She looked at him, unshed tears in her big blue eyes.

“Brienne, no,” He begged.

“Do you not want me?” She asked. He’d never, not even during their time in Winterfell, heard her sound so vulnerable. She trusted him enough to be this unguarded in front of him. He knew how hard that must be for her and a gift afforded to very few others. His hopes were rising dangerously fast.

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” He assured her. He leant forwards and cupped her cheek with his remaining hand, wiping away the tears that fell.

“Then I don’t understand.” She looked so confused and hurt and Jaime wanted to curl himself around her and protect her from ever being hurt again, like the armour he’d given her. Except that she could protect herself and he was the one inflicting the pain. No armour could protect her from the devastation he had wreaked.

“You deserve better than me. You deserve to marry someone who would never hurt you... And you shouldn’t just get married because everyone else is," He added. Being surrounded by happy couples took its toll, he knew. And why shouldn't she want that for herself? Of course, he wanted to be the one to give her that, but he knew that he'd been doing a piss poor job of it so far. 

“That’s not why I’m doing this…” She paused and collected her thoughts. “Sansa was talking about Tyrion, about how she couldn’t imagine trusting anyone else like she trusts him, or will trust him in the future, and I realised that’s how I feel about you. When I think about my life and the future, it’s only you.” Her eyes were so wide and honest that Jaime couldn’t tear his eyes away even if the Keep was on fire.

“There’s no need to rush into this. I don’t want you to regret anything.” His heart was picking up pace again and he was losing the will to fight.

“Jaime, I love you. Whether we marry now, or in ten years, I don’t care.” Her voice was earnest and pleading, like she truly wanted to shackle herself to him for the rest of her life.

“Are you sure?” He realised he was arguing against the greatest thing he could imagine happening to him, but he had to make sure that this what she really, truly wanted. Because once she said the word, he didn’t know if he'd be able to give her up again for anything.

“Of course, I’m sure, you foolish man. Besides, if we’re married, you can’t just ride off in the middle of the night.” She smiled. He could see it still hurt her, but she was smiling. She was far stronger and more resilient than him. “Now, will you marry me or not?”

He didn’t reply, at least not verbally. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like he kissed her in Winterfell, like their first frenzied kiss. Nothing but passion and hope for more.

She was smiling into the kiss and when he pulled away, he saw tears still streaming down her face.

“I know the prospect of marrying me isn’t a great one, but is it deserving of tears?” She laughed and brushed the tears off his own face.

“I love you.”

“And I love you. Now shut up and kiss me again.”

 

* * *

 

The entire council met later that day. Brienne was called on, to represent Tarth and as a commander of the Northern armies. The council was large, with everyone from Grey Worm, to Sansa, to Davos and Tyrion. The monarchs had so many advisors that Brienne worried that they might be stuck in the meeting forever. But since the war was now well behind them, the business of the council was rather boring and short. Brienne was glad.

Sansa and Tyrion eyed her suspiciously as she entered. If they had any doubts as to whether she had spoken to and made up with Jaime, she was sure her reddened lips and cheeks gave her away, along with the grin she couldn’t control. They both looked smug but didn’t say anything to her in front of the others. Of that, she was endlessly grateful.

She pulled them aside after the meeting. Before she could say a word, Sansa was planning, her scheming and pragmatic mind already far ahead.

“You should get married straight after us. All your family and friends will already be there anyway. It’ll make the planning so much easier. We can decorate mostly in red then, since we’re both marrying Lannister's. Combine the feast and save the food, since the war took a toll.”

Brienne shared a look with Tyrion. He placed his hand on his soon to be wife’s arm.

“Sansa dear, maybe we should let them have a say in their own wedding, if indeed there is to be a wedding?” 

“Of course. What do you think?” She turned to Brienne.

“To be honest, that sounds perfect.” She gave a sigh of relief. “I don’t want a big wedding, but if everyone’s already here, we should make the most of it. No use making people travel for no reason.”

“Wonderful. I’m so glad. Brienne, you deserve this.” Sansa looked like the young woman she was as she took Brienne’s hand. Love had given her a sense of contentment and hope that Brienne hadn't seen in her before. 

“I’ll be glad to have you as a sister, Ser Brienne. You deserve more than my idiot brother, but I’m glad he has you anyway. Someone needs to keep him in line and I lack the muscles for it.” Tyrion added. Brienne snorted a laugh.

“I can’t thank you both enough. Now I need to speak to the king and queen and let them know about our engagement. Hopefully they allow it.” Even though Jaime wasn’t a fugitive, the idea of telling Jon and Daenerys that she was marrying Jaime still caused a knot of anxiety to take residence in her stomach. He was still the Kingslayer, no matter how much he’d changed and made amends since then.

“We’ll be here for you.” Sansa gave her a comforting pat on her hand, before releasing her.

The council chambers had now emptied, except Sansa, Tyrion, Jon, Daenerys, Grey Worm and one of Daenerys’s Dothraki riders. As Brienne approached, Jon and Daenerys dismissed her fighters and greeted her.

“Ser Brienne, how are you? You look well.” Daenerys smiled enigmatically at her.

“I am very well, Your Grace. I just wish to inform you a betrothal. My betrothal.” She straightened her spine and tried to sound confident. If she told them as a matter of fact and didn’t give them the choice to deny them, then they had to let them marry... Right?

“Oh?” Daenerys prompted.

“I am to marry Jaime Lannister.” If she expected surprise, she didn’t get it. She looked between the two couples, both of whom looked at her, thoroughly unsurprised.

She suspected that the only person their engagement shocked was Jaime.

“Congratulations, Ser Brienne. We are very happy for you,” Daenerys said, smiling up at her.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She suspected her relief was evident to everyone, but she fought down the urge to celebrate too obviously for proprieties sake. 

“Will you be marrying directly after Sansa and Tyrion?” Jon asked in his deep, Northern voice.

“We will.” She nodded, smiling at him.

“Then we will be there with pleasure.” His face didn’t betray too much pleasure, but Brienne hopes that in his own stoic way, he meant it.

“Thank you, Your Graces.” She bowed and with a final look at her matchmakers, she fled.

 

* * *

 

“So that’s it? The wedding’s already organised?” Jaime asked, sceptically. Brienne had returned to Jaime’s chambers straight after the meeting, to tell him that all the cogs were in motion. He had seemed even more relieved than her.

“It seems so. All we have to do is turn up.”

Every other wedding Jaime had been forced to attend as the son of a noble were long, boring and cost far too much money. That they didn’t have to lift a finger to make their own wedding happen seemed too good to be true. But he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“Should we discuss the practicalities of when we’re married, or would you rather consummate our marriage first?” Jaime wrapped his arms around her and began to kiss her neck.

“Traditionally a couple is married before they consummate it.” She was clearly trying to be sensible, but Jaime wasn’t going to let her get away with that.

“When have you and I ever done anything traditionally?” He mumbled against her jaw, moving his hand to the ties on her shirt.

“It’s the middle of the day.” She protested weakly.

“Do you have anywhere better to be, Ser?” Her shirt was now open, and he snuck his hand underneath to rub along her spine.

“Lady Sansa gave me the day off.”

“I think your lady would want you to make the most of your well-earned leisure time and enjoy yourself.” She sighed and he knew he’d won.

“You’re incorrigible,” She laughed.

“Yes, I am. Truly the worst.”

If they spent the rest of the day wrapped around each other in bed, no one could blame them.

 

* * *

 

Jaime woke in the twilight to find Brienne hunched over his desk, writing a scroll. She looked beautiful in the fading light, the pinks and purples falling on her pale skin and making her look ethereal. His heart skipped as he noticed she was wearing his shirt and nothing else. His brain growled ‘ _mine_ ’ and he realised that before too long, she would be his and he would be hers. Forever.

As he watched her, she cursed softly and threw the scroll onto the fire. He watched her take another piece of parchment and begin again.

It wasn’t long before that also ended up in the fire with a huff of frustration.

“Are you alright, Brienne?”

She startled and span around to face him.

“Who are you writing to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are people still reading this? If so, thank you. I'm not sure why you're here, but I sure am glad you are.  
> Our idiots are together. But is it that simple? Will they live happily ever after? Find out next time on this story! (spoiler: it's not going to be that smooth).  
> I'm currently stuck on a particular part of this story, because while Jaime wouldn't shut up, Brienne isn't talking to me. Stubborn wench   
> Does anybody else have that? Where their characters just do not do as they want? It's like trying to herd cats.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding and some big news for our couple and the entirety of Westeros.

“I’m writing to my father.”

She wanted her father at her wedding. The Seven knew that he’d always despaired that day would never come. With good reason, she had to concede. Her interest in marriage had never been high, not since her adolescence, and his few attempts at setting up engagements had been utter disasters. But now it was happening, she was slightly terrified to tell him. He didn’t know about her relationship with Jaime. She’d told him of having Jaime as a prisoner and that they had reached an unlikely agreement to find and protect the Stark girls, but beyond that, he had no idea. Now she wished she’d said something, anything, which would’ve even slightly hinted that she was hopelessly in love with him.

She was worried the shock might give her father a heart attack.

“Oh.” Jaime looked uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“I’ve just never had to meet the father of someone I’m courting before.” He looked out of his depth and nervous. It was so unlike him. 

Now she thought about it, it made sense. He’d been too young when he’d joined the Kingsguard to have been seriously courting and the only woman he’d been with besides Brienne… Meeting the parents hadn’t exactly been a problem.

“I think we’ve gone a little beyond courting.” She rolled her eyes. His eyebrows went up and he smirked at her. His dimples always melted her heart and made her feel other things that threatened to distract her entirely.

“That’s not what I meant.” She threw a scroll at him. Being parchment, it simply fluttered harmlessly to the ground several inches from him. “You don’t need to ask for his permission, since I asked you.”

“Is he going to accept that?” He asked.

“Of course.”

“Even to a man 14 years your senior and with the honour of a hog?”

“He’ll just be happy to see me happy. Once he knows you and that this is a mutual decision, I know he’ll understand.”

“I’ll just have to win his favour with my famous Jaime Lannister charm and wit.” He gave her his winning smile, all teeth and calculation. It was the Jaime she’d known at the start, but not the Jaime she knew now. It was all Lannister and very little Jaime. She hated it.

“Just be yourself, the real you, and let me do the rest, alright?”

Jaime looked far more relaxed at her assurances. Brienne however wasn’t so sure.

Her father loved her. He’d let her take up the sword and participate in tourneys when he’d realised she was far more skilled with steel than with cloth. It was unconventional and a risk to their reputation, but he couldn’t bear to see her unhappy. So, he had allowed it. 

He doted on her, really. Brienne was all he had left. He’d lost his only son at the age of 8 and his twin daughters and wife in childbirth. He’d taken women as his companions throughout the years, but he’d never remarried. He could still have a son to take the mantle of Evenstar after him if he so chose, he was still young enough, but it was growing increasingly unlikely and Brienne suspected he simply didn’t want to.

Therefore, the responsibility would fall to her. She wasn’t confident she could be an effective ruler. Not like Sansa, Jon or Daenerys.

She didn’t want to disappoint her father. He meant the world to her. Failing to lead their people would disappoint him.

Marrying a man that the world hated would disappoint him too. He didn’t know Jaime, just the rumours and slander. Would he be able to see past the Kingslayer and Lannister names and see Jaime for the man she knew he was? She didn’t know if she could bear it if he disapproved. She’d just have to show him how honourable and kind Jaime could be, somehow.

If she didn’t desperately want her father at her wedding, walking her down the aisle, she’d probably just neglect to tell him. She wouldn’t lie, because she was honest to a fault, but if she just failed to mention it, that wasn’t _exactly_ a lie.

But he would hear of it, one way or another. Their new liege lord was Gendry, who Lord Selwyn Tarth would be honour bound to meet and pledge his sword to. He and Arya would not be able to keep the secret, even if she asked them to. But she wouldn’t ask them to cover for her decisions.

And she needed to head home eventually. She couldn’t hide forever. She needed to be brave and accept that her decisions were right, no matter what anyone else might think. Even her father.

But it didn’t make writing to him any easier.

 

* * *

 

Jon and Daenerys’s wedding came quickly, in an endless blur of people making endless arrangements. The wedding was going to be a relatively modest affair, for monarchs. They had eschewed the over the top finery and simply married as any noble family would. The wedding was a blending of the North, South and Essos traditions, honouring the ancestors and homelands of both Jon and Daenerys. They didn’t exchange cloaks, as both were Targaryen’s and were ruling together, neither above the other. Or at least, that was the plan. Most people knew that Daenerys would get her way more often than not. But at least she had Jon to balance out her worst impulses.

The wedding was a celebration of their love, but also the birth of the new Westeros under their control. Not every person in Westeros accepted their rule or attended the ceremony, but all politicking was put aside for the day. Every person in attendance was there because they believed in this new future and wanted to rejoice in it.

Brienne and Jaime sat together in the congregation, watching the ceremony. Nerves and excitement rushed through their veins as they realised that their turn was coming soon. They exchanged glances as the royal couple exchanged vows.

All the ladies and lords were in their finery. The bright colours and shining silks stood out against the plain, practical clothes of the smallfolk, Wildlings and Dothraki. It was a truly mixed crowd.

Brienne was wearing a tunic in the blue of the Tarth sigil, with the coat of arms over her heart. In deference to her knighthood, she also had two crossed swords stitched underneath. The seamstresses had done a fantastic job of making it comfortable, practical and yet fitting of a knight and lady. It was ladylike, accentuating her few curves, but didn’t make her uncomfortable.

Jaime, unlike Brienne, didn’t have new clothes to wear. But he did have fancier clothes by virtue of living so long in the capital and being from one of the richest houses. He’d left all his clothes behind when he rode off to the North. Luckily, they were all still there when he got back. He wore one of his nicer emerald green doublets, which complimented his eyes, under a dark brown jacket. Forgoing any Lannister colours or sigils meant he better fit in with the hedge knights or lesser lords, rather than standing out as a noble and the Kingslayer. His paranoia of being recognised was slowly fading, but still not gone completely.

The procession moved into the dragon pit for the feast. The entire pit was crowded. Every person in Westeros and many from Essos were invited to join in the union of the new royalty. From the poorest farmer, to the highest lords, they were welcomed, and the food and wine were plentiful.

The dragons themselves circled overhead in the setting sun. Many nervous glances were thrown their way by those not used to their presence. They seemed to be playing, whirling and dipping, playfully screeching at each other. It was impressive and awe inspiring.

Once the crowd had settled down, Jon and Daenerys stood and called for attention. The pit was big, but with the echo off the stone, most could hear. Those who couldn’t were the ones who didn’t much care for the speeches anyway. There were plenty of people there just for the food, drink and dancing.

“Thank you all for coming,” Jon said. He stood tall and proud, like a king should. But he also wore the glow of happiness of a man who had pledged his life to the one he loved. Unlike his usual dour demeanour, the smile he wore never wavered from the moment he saw his bride walking towards him. As was his usual style, he wore black. But now the black was decorated with red dragons and white dire wolves. If the embroidery on Brienne’s clothing was fine, the embroidery on his clothes was extraordinary.

“We appreciate you all being here. No matter where we are from, we are here together as one,” Daenerys added. She looked even more beautiful than usual, the same glow that surrounded Jon highlighted her elegance and charm. Her violet eyes shone with pride and love as she looked first at her husband, then the gathered assembly. She wore white, which accentuated her hair. Like Jon, her clothes were embroidered with dragons, red, green and blue, like Drogon and Rhaegal who had landed and stood to attention when Jon and Daenerys began to speak, as well as the fallen Viserion. Her cloak was also adorned with symbols of Essos, of the cities she had liberated. 

“As the new rulers of the seven kingdoms, we are going to make some changes,” Jon paused, looking out at the masses, “Firstly, Winterfell and the North belongs to House Stark. The Lady of Winterfell, Sansa Stark, as head of the house, will rule the North.”

The Northern lords were clearly shocked and a ripple of surprise travelled through the pit. Sansa was smiling, clearly pleased that the North would be an independent region once more. However, she also looked surprised. It was clear that Jon and Daenerys hadn’t told her in advance.

“This makes the seven kingdoms into eight, not including the Crownlands.”

“Secondly, the eight kingdoms will be just that. Each territory will be separately ruled by those who currently occupy the mantle of warden,” Daenerys smiled at the looks of shock on the faces of the crowd, “Restoring the titles of king or queen for each, undoing what Aegon I did when he conquered Westeros 300 years ago.”

Jon called each monarch in turn.

“For the North, arise Queen Sansa Stark. For housing, feeding and caring for the injured during the War for the Dawn, we crown you the Queen of the North.”

Sansa stood, poised and graceful. Gone was the nervous little girl who had arrived in the capital all those years ago. Tyrion looked up her with pride and admiration from his seat beside her. The crowd clapped.

“For the Vale, arise King Robin Arryn. For your loyalty and help in regaining Winterfell from the Bolton army, we crown you King of the Mountain and the Vale.”

Robin stood shakily. He had grown and looked the part of a traditional lord now. He looked around the gathered assembly. At their applause, he gained confidence.

“For the Riverlands, arise King Edmure Tully. For your bravery in the face of imprisonment and the successful retaking of your ancestral home from invading forces without undue bloodshed, we crown you King of Riverrun and the Trident.”

Edmure stood. He looked nervous but determined. Beside him, his beautiful Frey wife looked astounded. Their son was too young to understand the proceedings, but sensing something exciting, began to wriggle in his mother’s arms.

“For the Iron Islands, arise Queen Yara Greyjoy. For your loyalty to the crown and great sacrifice during the wars, we crown you Queen of the Iron Islands”

Yara stood. The Ironborn cheered loudly. She pumped her fist in the air with a call of “What is dead may never die!”

“For the Westerlands, arise King Jaime Lannister. For your great personal sacrifices and bravery in both wars, we crown you King of the Rock and Westerlands.”

Jaime looked at Brienne with panic in his eyes. She nudged him and he stood hesitantly. Jon and Daenerys were looking at him, not exactly kindly, but without any animosity, which is the best he could hope for. The cheers were more subdued than previous announcements, but Jaime didn’t notice.

“For the Stormlands, arise King Gendry Baratheon. For your bravery during the war, helping to capture a wight and arm the forces of the living, we crown you King of the Stormlands.”

If Robin, Edmure or Jaime had looked nervous or unsure, Gendry looked downright terrified and out of his depth. He looked across at Arya and Sansa, who both smiled at him. It seemed to calm him, and he stood taller. 

“For Dorne, arise King Manfrey Martell. For Dorne’s assistance during the wars, we crown you King of Dorne.”

The Dornish man stood and bowed to Jon and Daenerys. He didn’t seem too moved by the gesture, but Dorne had always had more independence than the other kingdoms, due to their voluntary fealty to the throne. For him, it was a mere promotion from prince to king.

“We charge you all to be just and fair leaders, who lead for the good of their people, listening to them and allowing them the freedom they deserve,” Daenerys proclaimed.

The crowd cheered as one. When silence fell once more, Jon continued.

“For the Wildlings, we gift you each of the castles formerly used by the Night’s Watch. You may choose to settle wherever in Westeros you wish, North or South of the wall. I know you recognise no kings, so I appoint no leader. We thank you for your help and support.”

The few Wildlings present cheered louder than the Ironborn, led by a grinning Tormund. Jon smiled proudly. He had struggled to fit in anywhere. The Wildlings had mostly accepted him with open arms. He felt as much a part of them as he felt Targaryen and Stark. More than he'd felt a part of the Night's Watch.

“For the Reach, we appoint Qhono as the ko of the Khalasar. You are still my blood riders, blood of my blood, and I am still your Khaleesi. If any of the Dothraki wish to stay in Westeros, we give you the Reach, the largest plains of Westeros. If you choose to stay, you will need to live by Westerosi rules when living and communicating with the Westerosi. If you wish to return home, we grant you a ship and horses to return to the Dothraki Sea. A small number of you will stay here in Kings Landing as my personal guard, along with the Unsullied.” Daenerys translated for the Dothraki and added in the common tongue, “Anyone residing in the Reach will be happily resettled in any kingdom they choose, if they wish it.”

“For the Unsullied, you will remain here in the Crownlands as our guard, unless you wish to go elsewhere. We will grant you safe passage to anywhere you wish.” Daenerys and Grey Worm shared a look and Grey Worm bowed deeply.

“Everyone is welcome to move freely between kingdoms with impunity. However, the kingdoms may not harbour a fugitive from another kingdom,” Jon warned.

“As rulers of the Crownlands and the conquerors of the eight kingdoms, Jon and I will rule alongside all our appointed kings and queens. If a dispute between kingdoms occurs, Jon and I will be impartial arbitrators. We wish prosperity for every kingdom and its people.” Daenerys raised her glass. Everyone stood and held their cups high.

“To Westeros and all its people. To the future,” She cried.

Every person in the pit echoed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of our favourite knights in this chapter, but believe me, the next few will be full of them. With a few cameo appearances by a few characters that I love and demanded to be a part of the fun.  
> What will being named a king mean for Jaime? And for Brienne? 
> 
> This story has just hit 40,000 words written and I'm at chapter 18. I seriously thought this story was going to be ~6,000 words. It exploded. The good news is, I think that it should be fully written within a week or so, all going well. And then all I have to do is last minute edits and upload. 
> 
> Also, I just stole a name from the Dorne wiki for the new prince, since he doesn't have a name yet. All OC's in this story have real GOT names (like Pod's young lady, who exists in the books), so I'm staying as close to canon as I can, while also disregarding large parts of it. Like D&D but less infuriating. I hope..?
> 
> Quono died in the show, but none of the other important Dothraki had names, so it is what it is.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is a king, our lovers quarrel and a character from Winterfell appears out of the shadows.

“King?” Jaime looked shocked dumb as he collapsed back into his chair. He was still staring towards Jon and Daenerys, but Brienne could tell he wasn’t really seeing them. “I don’t know how to be a king.”

“Jaime, look around, I don’t think anyone does either.” Brienne gestured towards the all newly crowned monarchs around them, including the Targaryen’s. She hadn’t been expecting the announcements and from the reactions of everyone around them, neither had anyone else, including the new kings and queens.

“But I don’t want it,” He said.

“You don’t?” She asked, somewhat surprised.

“No, I don’t.” He’d taken the pledge to hold no lands or titles as a Kingsguard knight. But he wasn’t bound to those rules anymore. If he wanted it, he could have it. Just like his oath to take no wife.

Just like Jon had taken those oaths as a Night’s Watchman. And now he was a king and married. He and Daenerys might have children in the future, as heirs to the Iron Throne and the Crownlands.

“If you truly don’t want it, then you can talk to King Jon and Queen Daenerys and I’m sure they can come up with some other solution. But, in the meantime, you don’t have to make any rash decisions. Just think about it, alright?” She didn’t want him to give it up in the heat of the moment and regret it. The chance to become a king was rare.

Although apparently not as rare as it had been half an hour ago.

Brienne wasn’t sure how to feel about it either. Being married to a king was so far removed from how she’d ever envisaged her life. Just being married had seemed far-fetched. She didn’t know how to be queen any more than Jaime knew how to be king. If anything, less so. She hadn’t exactly grown up as a traditional lady, learning the etiquette and traditions. She vaguely knew how to run Tarth, learnt from her father, but Tarth was a small island, not an entire kingdom.

Jaime, out of all the new kings and queens, had spent the most time in the capital. He had been the personal guard to several kings, son to one of the most politically minded men in the world, father to two kings and brother to both a queen and the hand of the new king and queen of the Crownlands. Royalty was apparently in his blood.

But Brienne worried, if Jaime was ruling the Westerlands, what would happen when she headed back to Winterfell, or when she inherited Tarth? They couldn’t live apart, surely? There were many marriages where the couple only saw each other once or twice a year. But she and Jaime weren’t a marriage of convenience or for political gain. Besides, she’d been away from Jaime for too long before and she didn’t want to do it again. After all they’d been through, she didn’t want to let him out of her sight.

But she couldn’t give up Tarth either. She didn’t have any relatives she could name as heir after her. She was the end of the line, just as Jaime and Tyrion were of theirs.  
But Tarth wasn’t as important as the entire Westerlands and the Lannister dynasty.

Maybe they shouldn’t get married. Her heart panged painfully at the idea, so much she almost thought for an instant that she was dying, but they each had their duty to fulfil. She couldn’t expect him to give up his kingdom for her and she couldn’t give up Tarth.

Jaime seemed to have snapped out of his shock, because when she looked at him again, he was watching her with a fond smile.

“What’s going on in that head of yours? Fantasising about being my queen? I bet you are, naughty wench,” He whispered in her ear. It sent shivers down her spine.

“No! Behave yourself,” She chastised him. He didn’t look at all repentant. Instead, his smirk deepened, and Brienne felt her face begin to heat up. He hadn’t called her wench in so long. She would never admit that she’d missed it.

“Never, my fair queen,” He stood and bowed to her, “Dance with me?” He held out his hand and waited.

Brienne’s heart skipped a beat. Jaime didn’t know her past with Renly and the other young lords. He was smiling patiently down at her as if he knew her hesitation. She looked around. A large area had been cleared in the middle of the dragon pit and several couples were already swaying back and forth, the newlywed king and queen leading the crowd. A small band had begun playing some beautiful melody and the entire assembly had stopped to listen and watch.

“Our wedding is in two weeks and I can’t remember how to dance. If I don’t practice now, I’ll embarrass us both on our wedding day and you’ll never forgive me,” He leant down and added, “Please, Brienne?”

His eyes were begging and despite all her misgivings, of which she had a lot, she took his outstretched hand and let him lead her to the floor. He took her hand in his good hand, situating his stump on her lower back. He did his best to lead, using the stump to push and pull on her back, signalling the turns. She seemed to read his intentions better than she could’ve imagined. They were soon twirling around as well as any other couple. She was shocked, never having danced much since her childhood lessons. But in this, like fighting, they seemed to complement each other. And he was a very good leader.

She had relaxed into his arms, when he seemed to get sick of the silence.

“Do you think our wedding is going to be this fancy?” He asked jokingly.

“I hope not,” She replied. She couldn’t imagine having to speak in front of that many people. She’d rather face the dead again than to be the centre of attention. She could feel herself sweating at the thought.

Jaime rumbled a laugh in her ear.

“I don’t think half so many people care about our marriage.”

“I’m not sure about that King Jaime Lannister, first of his name,” She teased him back. He growled and pulled her closer.

“I’m not a king. I’m barely a lord.”

Despite the teasing lilt, she heard the self-hatred in his voice. After all the good he’d done, saving so many lives, he still seemed to think he was rotten. Many of the lives he’d saved were surrounding them at that moment, many of them completely ignorant of the fact.

He’d also saved her. He’d saved her life, saved her virtue (for a while, until he’d stolen it himself), saved her from being lonely and unloved. He’d done so much good. It didn’t erase the terrible things he’d done, but he’d changed. He wasn’t the same man who’d tried to kill Bran or killed his own cousin. He was better than that, now.

They had stopped dancing, merely standing in place, still embracing.

“Jaime, you’re more than worthy of being a lord and a king. You’re the most noble, loyal, kind and…” He interrupted her.

“No, I’m not, Brienne. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve to be alive. I should’ve died in Winterfell. How can you believe I’m anything but evil and hateful?

 _“She's hateful. And so am I.”_ It echoed in her head every day since he’d said it. Had he said it to make her hate him? Or did he truly believe he was as irredeemable as his sister had been? Brienne couldn’t be sure, but she hated the thought that he believed it. He'd done so many noble things, sacrificed so much.

The pure hatred and despair in his voice was more than she could handle. Tears began to make their way down her face as she pulled away from him. He looked haggard, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked every second of his age and then some. The 14 years between them suddenly felt like centuries.

“I wouldn’t love an evil man. I wouldn’t want to marry or have children with a monster like that. Do you hear me, Jaime Lannister? You are better than that.” She was shaking, from rage or terror she couldn’t be sure. She was keeping her voice down, very aware of the crowd around them. She glanced around. No one had seemed to take notice of the change between them, but it was only a matter of time.

“Children?” Something had changed in his posture and his face was unreadable.

“No. I can’t…” He muttered as he turned and disappeared into the crowd. She stood there, shocked. The adrenaline pumped in her veins, but she didn’t follow. She felt the urge to vomit rising in her throat. She couldn’t breathe amongst the push of people dancing around her. She saw Sansa and Tyrion dancing only a few feet to her left. Her eyes met theirs and she could see the second they noticed her distress.

She ran out of the crowd.

* * *

 

Jaime had run. He knew he shouldn’t have. Brienne deserved better than that. But Brienne deserved a lot more than she believed. She’d settled for him, after all.

The talk of being a king, when all he’d known were kings who shouldn’t have been in charge of anything, let alone an entire kingdom, had rattled him. Aerys had been cruel. Robert had been selfish. Joffrey had been sadistic. Tommen had been too young, too naïve. Cersei… She had been the worst of them all. She’d been angry at everyone and everything. She’d have happily watched the world burn.

If there was one thing Jaime knew, it was that power and riches brought nothing but misery and he didn’t want it. He wanted to live on Tarth with Brienne, caring only about the weather and what they had to eat.

When she’d mentioned children, his heart had stopped. He’d had children. And he couldn’t protect them. The pain of losing a child was the worst pain he’d ever felt. Losing his hand had been a scratch in comparison to the wound of grief that had torn him apart, watching two of his children die and hearing of Tommen’s death…

No parent should have to outlive their children. It had driven better men and women crazy. He’d have sacrificed himself to bring them back in a heartbeat.

He couldn’t live through that again.

Brienne wanted children. The possibility never even crossed his mind that she might. But it made sense. She was the heir to an island, and she had no heirs of her own, not even a cousin.

Neither did Jaime. Not anymore. But Jaime was happy for his genes to die out. He had all the darkness of his family in him. He couldn’t let it spread. Tyrion had it in him too, but not to the same degree. Hopefully Sansa’s goodness and strength would override the Lannister blood.

He couldn’t marry Brienne. He couldn’t sentence her to a life with a crippled, old man, who couldn’t give her children. He would continue to hurt her, accidentally or not. He was cursed and he wouldn’t let her be tainted by it.

He thought once Cersei was gone, that he’d be free. But he could never be free of himself and his sins.

* * *

 

Brienne ran out of the dragon pit. The sounds of music and laughter faded as she ran farther and farther.

“Lady knight?” A gruff voice asked from the shadows. Brienne whirled around, hand firmly on the hilt of Oathkeeper. It relaxed only slightly when she saw who had called to her.

“Tormund,” She nodded in greeting. His usual intense stare was gone, which she was thankful for. She wanted to escape back to the Keep, back to her chambers where she could fall apart without witnesses.

But Tormund saw her tears and she saw his face contort into anger.

“Who hurt you? Was it the pretty lion man?” He looked ready to kill someone.

“No. It’s alright. He didn’t mean to upset me.”

“Should I fight him?” As much as she wanted to get away, she couldn’t leave him fuming and ready for a fight.

“No. It’s really fine. I can look after myself.” She reassured him. While her emotions were still all over the place, she’d calmed, just trying to calm Tormund.

“I know you can, you’re a lady knight now. But if you’re too upset, I can split his head with an axe for you.”

“Thank you,” She sighed. Tormund was still watching her. But it wasn’t half as unnerving as it had been. She was glad that he was on her side.

“I’m glad you found your lion man. He’s small and pretty enough to be a girl, but you’re big and strong enough to be a man, so it makes sense.” Though Brienne didn’t know how it made sense at all, she nodded anyway. She could also tell he was trying to be empathetic, even though it didn’t seem to come naturally to him. It was sweet.

“Our children would’ve been as big and strong as bears, but you and the lion will have beautiful children.” At the mention of children, Brienne remembered the look on Jaime’s face as he’d fled. It was a devastation that Brienne had never seen before. She was distracted for a moment, before she came back to herself to hear Tormund still talking.

“Besides, the lion loves you and gave you the knighthood. I could never’ve done that, but I would’ve if I could’ve. I couldn’t compete with that.” He sighed and Brienne thought he looked a little forlorn. But then a second later, he was his usual jovial self.

“That little noble had better treat you right. You’re a rare woman, Ser. I do call you Ser now, yes?”

“Yes, knights are sers.” She confirmed. He looked proud of his newfound knowledge.

“You kneelers are weird, but I’m coming to like it.”

“Are you staying in Westeros?” She asked.

“No. I belong up North, beyond the wall. All these people and buildings are making me uncomfortable. If it wasn’t for the damn little crow getting married, I’d never’ve come this far South.” Brienne couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. He didn’t fit in here and Brienne was used to not fitting in.

She liked Tormund. He was an honest, loyal and strong man. And inexplicably, he found her attractive. Maybe in a different life, she could've seen herself with him. But her heart had been stolen long before she’d met Tormund.

“Little lion?” Tormund was looking past Brienne. She panicked and turned.

Her eyes locked onto a very familiar pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm writing mostly POV, Brienne wouldn't know that Dany can't have kids.
> 
> Tormund is fun. I like him, even though I obviously didn't want him and Brienne to end up together. Also, he just barged his way into the story, whether I liked it or not.
> 
> I know that this is unrealistically happy, with Dany and Jon living happily ever after. I have a one shot that I'm working on where Dany goes crazy, but in a better way. It's on the back burner until this story is done, but it's in my drafts. Waiting.
> 
> Thanks for being patient with me and this story. You rock.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which Lannister is about to face off with Tormund?   
> Spoiler: It's Tyrion.

“Ser Brienne, are you alright?” Tyrion asked. She realised her face was still splotchy and had the tracks left by her tears.

“I’m fine.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, trying hard not to sniff too hard and seem unladylike. A true lady would’ve had a handkerchief with them, but Brienne had never been accused of being ladylike.

“No, you’re clearly not. What did my idiot of a brother do now?” Tyrion was looking at her sympathetically and she hated it.

Brienne sighed. She didn’t want to talk about it. The entire day had been emotional, for one reason or another. She needed space to calm down and sort through the mess of feelings she was being bombarded with. Her emotions had never felt so out of control before. But she had Tyrion and Tormund looking at her, expecting an explanation that she didn’t even know how to start to describe.

“It was my fault, I pushed him.”

“You attacked him?” Tormund asked, clearly confused. His fluffy eyebrows had risen up his forehead almost comically. 

“No. I pushed him to talk about things he didn’t want to. I should’ve known better.” She shook her head sadly. Everytime she thought they were communicating effectively, something set them back. It was two steps forward and one step back. 

“No, he obviously hurt you. Don’t make excuses for him.” Tyrion seemed as angry as Tormund had been. But it seemed very different in him than it did in the Wildling. Tormund held the anger as violence. Tyrion held it under his skin, waiting to use it later, plotting and scheming.

Brienne used both methods in turns. She had no trouble physically engaging anyone who hurt a loved one. But when it came to the names they called her, the insults they hurled, she took the pain and placed it inside herself, letting it burn. It was her motivation to push herself to be better. 

“I’m not making excuses. I’m not sure what really set him off, but I knew he was upset and I didn’t stop. I hurt him and he hurt me. But neither of us meant it.” She wouldn’t cry again. Jaime had a way of making her cry more than any other person in the world. She was not a vulnerable woman, but he had sneaked under her armour.

“Come on, let’s go back to the Keep,” Tyrion said. She looked at Tormund and he was looking at her almost tenderly, clearly worried for her.

“Tormund…” She began. He gave her one of his manic grins. She thought it was supposed to be reassuring.

“Go on, lady knight. But remember what I said.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a more subdued smile in return and followed Tyrion back towards the Keep. She had to walk slowly, so as not to leave him behind. They must have looked ridiculous walking together. 

“You’re alright with leaving the festivities? I’m fine to go back to the Keep by myself, if you want to get back to Sansa.”

He gave a short, sharp laugh.

“When I left, she had just begun to talk wedding preparations with Daenerys. I suspect they could be discussing it for hours and not even notice my absence.”

“Sansa and Queen Daenerys are getting along now?” She knew they’d had their clashes, their power struggles and Sansa’s protectiveness of her family. She was a real wolf, loyal and fierce to the core. She almost worried, when Daenerys had only just arrived at Winterfell, that they might actually come to blows. She was thankful it hadn't. She hadn't fancied facing down the dragon queen. Or her dragons. 

“Much better. Now Sansa knows that Daenerys won’t be taking Winterfell away, or leaving Jon broken hearted, I think it’s soothed a lot of the tensions. They may never be the best of friends, but they respect each other.” He smiled. Brienne didn’t know how he would’ve lived with his Queen and wife constantly at odds. He was a braver and stronger man than anyone gave him credit for. Or maybe just more optimistic.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“But that’s enough distraction. What happened with Jaime?” She should've known he wouldn’t drop the subject, no matter how much she wished he would.

“We were just talking. I was teasing him about being a king and he started talking about how he should be dead… I told him that he deserved to be rewarded, because he’s amazing, and then he ran off.” She blurted out. Put like that, it sounded crazy. She wasn't sure why their conversation had taken such a turn. But she also knew how sensitive he could be, under the carefree facade. 

Tyrion sighed.

“He really is an idiot.”

Brienne expected him to continue, but when they kept walking in silence, she began to doubt. Just as she was about to say something to break the tension, Tyrion spoke again. His voice was more serious than she’d ever heard from him before.

“I don’t think he expected to live.”

“Through the war against the dead?” To be honest, she thought they’d all been goners so many times that night. In the days that followed, as they took stock, she’d had to stop occasionally to remind herself that she was alive. Pod, Sansa, Arya, Jaime… They’d all survived. She couldn’t believe it.

Because in her nightmares, sometimes they didn't. 

“That… And Cersei. I think he always thought they’d die together.” He said it like he was divulging something private. Like Jaime had told his brother, in the dead of night, the deepest secret or darkest fear. Brienne tried not to let her feelings towards Cersei sway her, but the feeling that filled her at the very mention of her name made her feel ill.

Jaime had turned her back on her and he’d killed her. No matter what he might have felt for Cersei before, he didn’t still love her. Or did he?

“But he killed her.” She was confused. If Jaime wouldn’t talk about it, the closest she had to getting the truth was Tyrion. But he looked conflicted. He was obviously loyal to his brother. The fact he was confiding in her made her feel part of something. But she also didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.  

“He did. Whether he thought he’d be killed by Cersei, or her army, Jon and Daenerys or whether he thought about killing himself, I’m not sure.”

The though of Jaime killing himself shot panic through her and she gasped. She looked at Tyrion, who shook his head sadly. It clearly hurt him as much as it hurt her to think of Jaime following in his youngest son’s footsteps.

“I think we’re past that point now. And I think it’s because of you.” Tyrion was looking up at her, eyes sincere and pleading, like she was the last tie Jaime had to living.

“Me?” She choked out.

“You’re the complication he didn’t see coming.” She hated to think of their relationship as a complication, which must have shown on her face, because he rushed to assure her, “Not that that’s a bad thing. You’ve been good for him. He’s happiest when he’s with you.”

“Then why do we keep fighting?” It was supposed to be easy. They were supposed to get married and move on from the pain they’d been through. They were supposed to have each other. He’d make jokes about her height and homeliness, but if anyone spoke a word against her, he’d roar, like the lion he was. She was supposed to hold him, love him in public proudly, and if anyone said anything about him being a Kingslayer, she’d threaten them with Oathkeeper.

But it wasn’t going like she’d planned. Things never seemed to work out like they did in the songs.

“Because while he loves you, and he _does_ love you, he’s been damaged. There are things he will never be able to forget or move on from.” Tyrion seemed so disheartened, but Brienne didn’t have the faintest idea how to console him.

They had arrived back at the Keep and were making their way through the darkened, abandoned corridors, everyone still enjoying the festivities and would be for a few hours more.

“So, what do I do?” She asked. She was asking Tyrion, but she was also asking the universe at large. How could she help Jaime when she didn’t even know what was bothering him?

“I don’t know.”

Brienne looked at Tyrion in surprise. Tyrion seemed as lost as she was. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who lacked a solution for any problem. But she supposed that maybe her relationship with Jaime was so complex even Tyrion's great mind couldn’t riddle it out.

“I do know that he loves you and he will try to make it work. But he also might give up too easily, because he doesn’t believe he deserves happiness. Unless you force him to keep fighting for it. Do you want to be with him?” His eyes met hers, beseechingly. 

Despite thinking only a mere half an hour ago that maybe it would be best that they not get married, her answer was instantaneous, just like it had been with Sansa.

“Yes.”

“Good. Then don’t let him get away with hurting you and running away like he did. You need to trust each other enough to be able to talk about _everything_.” His emphasis on ‘everything’ was pointed. She didn’t want to talk about Cersei. But they had to. They couldn’t move past this without talking about her. The thought made her stomach jolt. 

And trust. It always came back to trust. Did she trust him enough now? Did he trust her?

“Alright. I’ll talk to him tomorrow, if he’ll let me.”

“Make him let you. You’re good for him and he’s good for you. Don’t let that vindictive bitch get between you anymore. Westeros has moved on, now you need to.”

They arrived outside their rooms. They parted with a sad smile and Brienne shut her door behind her with a click. She slumped into her chair by the fire, staring into the flames.

What was she going to do? 

 

* * *

 

Tyrion entered his rooms and waited until he was sure Brienne was safely in her own chambers, before he slipped back out into the corridor.

He cast a cautious glance at her door. Satisfied she wouldn’t reappear, he knocked gently on Jamie’s door.

“Jaime?” He whispered, just loud enough that if Jaime was inside, he’d likely hear, but not so loud that it would carry across the hall and through her door.

There was no reply, but he wasn’t surprised.

“Can you please open the door?” Again, there was no reply.

Taking the chance, he turned the handle. It swung open and Tyrion let himself in to see Jaime lying curled up facing away from the door on his bed, still fully dressed.

“Go away, Tyrion,” He snarled. Tyrion ignored his warning and walked over to join his brother on the bed.

“It’s not very good form to leave your betrothed crying on the dance floor.”

He got no response, but that wasn't going to stop him.

“She was very upset. She ran away before I could get to her and do you know where I found her?” At this point, the question was rhetorical. He didn’t expect or need an answer. His anger was swiftly picking up steam and he needed to let it out.

“She was with that big, hairy Wildling.” Jaime turned to look at him with shock and horror.

“What?” He croaked. He hadn’t been crying, but Tyrion could see the pain in every line on his face.

“He seems to have found her and was comforting her, I think. It's hard to tell with him.”

“Were they..?”

“And if they were, would you play the victim? You hurt her, Jaime. You think she’s going to let you continuously abandon and hurt her and just take you back?”

Jaime looked like his world had ended. Again. Like he’d looked in the Throne room, Cersei's body laid out before him. His eyes were haunted.

“Of course, they weren’t. She would never hurt you like that. She’s loyal to a fault and she loves you, though I fail to see why. At this point, she has more admirers than you do. Not all of them as uncouth as the giant bear fucker.”

She was a war hero, the first female knight and a noble lady. She’d always turned heads, but now the looks were full of respect and admiration. Tyrion saw it, even if she or Jaime didn’t.

“I know,” Jaime replied, “And she deserves every single ounce of respect. She deserves a young, beautiful lord, not a broken idiot like me.”

“Yes. She does. But unfortunately, and for reasons I cannot fathom, she chose you. She proposed to you.” Jaime looked amazed once again at that fact. “So, you are going to knock on her door tomorrow morning with breakfast and flowers and you are going to grovel at her feet. You are going to talk to her, openly and honestly and you are going to stop this self hatred nonsense.”

“But...”

“No excuses. I’ve done the self hatred thing and it brought nothing but suffering.”

“How do I tell her about...” He gestured widely. Tyrion figured he meant Cersei and everything that came with that topic.

Tyrion's anger had subsided, and he just felt sad for his brother. They'd both suffered at the hands of their father and sister.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m afraid she’ll hate me,” He was trying not to sound upset or scared, but no one knew him better than Tyrion. At least, no one still living. Except Brienne.

“She won’t. She’s too kind and sympathetic for that. Trust her. Show her trust and she’ll trust you in return. Now, I have to get back to the dragon pit before Sansa organises our entire wedding without me.”

Tyrion jumped off the bed. Jaime watched him walking to the door, opening it before he spoke.

“Thank you, little brother. I owe you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“How about Casterly and the crown of the Westerlands?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a short one, but I'm going to be posting a little more regularly until it's done.
> 
> A bit disappointed that Jaime and Tormund don't get to square off..? Just wait. 
> 
> Also, I didn't necessarily mean to, but there's a little bit of hinting at a future revelation hidden throughout the last few chapters. If a literature class was studying this, they might say the foreshadowing was entirely deliberate. But it isn't. Maybe I'll just claim it is. Why yes, I am a genius. 
> 
> Everyone is welcome to guess what the revelation is if they want. 
> 
> Also, I've changed the rating, because some stuff gets dark from here on out. Apparently my idea of endless happiness also includes some discussions of topics best avoided in polite conversation.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime goes to Brienne's chambers and they talk. And talk. And talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys. You may have noticed that the rating went up a little. Nothing graphic is going to happen, but Jaime is about to talk about everything he's done. He doesn't go into detail, but he does make some excuses and talks about Cersei and their relationship. Their relationship was messed up, so that's what he talks about, along with the rest of his history. He just needs to get it off his chest.

Brienne woke up early the next morning, to a knock on her door. It wasn’t particularly loud, but after being a fighter who needed to be aware of her surroundings for so long, she was used to falling asleep and waking up at the slightest provocation. The only exception had been those weeks at Winterfell, after the battle. She’d never slept as soundly.

She slipped out of bed and put on her dressing gown. She wasn’t fit to see anyone, but Pod had seen her look worse. Only when she opened the door, it wasn’t Pod who stood on the other side. It was a freshly groomed Jaime, who looked at her with the biggest apologetic eyes she’d ever seen. It made her even more conscious of how her hair was no doubt sticking up in every direction and she was still half asleep.

But he’d also seen her look much worse.

She noticed he was holding a bunch of flowers in his left hand and a breakfast tray was balanced precariously on his stump, held against his body to keep it steady. She was impressed at how well he’d adapted to not having his hand, and not having the fake gold monstrosity either.

“Good morning, Brienne,” He bowed carefully. The tray wobbled, but he righted it quickly. He gave her a sheepish smile and her heart melted.

“Good morning. Do you want to come in?” She wasn’t sure why she was acting so formal, when they’d been in and out of each other’s space for their entire relationship.

Nevertheless, he seemed grateful as he put the flowers and the tray down on her table and waited for her to sit before taking his seat. They both began to pick at the food, neither quite sure what to say. Eventually, Brienne broke the silence.

“I’m sorry about yesterday…” He shook his head.

“No. I was the one in the wrong. I’m sorry.” He seemed more sincere than she’d ever seen him. She didn’t reply for a moment, too busy watching him with awe. He’d apologised. She never thought she’d see the day when the great Jaime Lannister deigned to apologise for anything.

He started to squirm under her gaze, and it made her smile.

“It’s alright. I pushed you.”

“I overreacted. The thing is…” He paused. His face had gone carefully blank and she couldn’t find the usual spark in his eyes.

“Yes?” She prompted.

“Have you talked to Tyrion much?” He asked. He wasn’t looking at her now, which worried her.

“Not very much.” She shrugged.

“Tyrion was, is, the best member of our family. Considering he killed our father, I think that tells you a lot about our family.” He let out a small huff that must have supposed to have been a laugh. But there was no humour in it.

“She and I…” He paused again.

“You can say her name, it’s fine.” She wasn’t sure it was, but if he needed to talk, she would listen.

“What I’m about to tell you, I haven’t told anyone. Not even Tyrion. But I need to. If it makes you want to never see me again, I understand. But I can’t marry you if you don’t know all of what I am and what I’ve done.”

He looked at her for confirmation that she was listening and would hear him out. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else than sitting at her table sharing his secrets, but he also looked determined to see it through.

She would also rather be anywhere else, but she owed him this much. Even if he wanted to leave her again, she owed him enough to hear his side of the story.

“You can tell me anything, Jaime. You know that.” No matter how much it hurt, she would listen. Even if it was to tell her he still loved Cersei, she would listen.

“Cersei and I,” He still hesitated. Brienne’s heart hurt to hear the emotion in his voice. Was it because of Cersei? Was it because he still loved her? She swallowed down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.

“We were happy, as children. Mother and father were so in love. I’ve never seen another relationship like it.” His eyes had gone glassy. He was clearly lost in his own head, in the memories.

“It’s hard for most people to imagine the great and terrifying Tywin Lannister in love, but he was. She was his cousin, you know.” He continued. Brienne had known. Tywin, the great political mind, had forgone a political marriage in favour of marrying a woman he loved. She offered no lands, no money, no titles. Just love. It was rare amongst noble families and even more so amongst the Lannister’s.

“We were happy, the four of us. We were closer than most families I knew, whose parents barely spoke and sent their children off to nannies as soon as possible. We did everything together as a family. Cersei and I were best friends. We spent every moment together we could. Obviously, when I began to learn to fight and she was in lessons with her septa, we spent time apart. But we spent every other moment together, playing and talking. We used to sneak out of lessons if we could, just to be together again.” Brienne tried to ignore the pain hearing him reminiscing about Cersei. It was innocent. At least at this point. But the knowledge of what was coming made her stomach turn. She wouldn’t cry, no matter what. She was stronger than that.

“When Tyrion was born, it changed everything. Mother died and father’s love and warmth died with her. I don’t think he smiled once after her death. At least, not a smile that wasn’t condescending.” Brienne could well imagine it. In her brief time around Tywin, he had seemed cold and arrogant. She had seen glimpses of it in both Jaime and Tyrion, but in Cersei, it had been most pronounced. She’d made Brienne feel small. It wasn’t a feeling Brienne was used to.  

“He hated Tyrion. I’ve never seen hatred like it. I’ve seen anger, vengeance, jealousy, dislike... Aerys was wildly violent and had insane moods, but it was nothing like the cold, calculated disdain father had for Tyrion. He not only took my mother from him, but as a dwarf… Father was ashamed.” Jaime looked at Brienne. His eyes were imploring. Now he’d started talking it seemed like he wasn’t going to stop.

“But I loved Tyrion from the first second. He’s funny. He’s smart and witty, and I love him. I'd always wanted a brother. I liked having a twin, but I wanted a brother too.” He was smiling, thinking about his brother, but his eyes darkened again almost immediately, “Cersei hated him, like father. She blamed him for losing everything we’d had. She wanted it back, and I think that made her do everything she could to keep the two of us together.” When he paused, there was absolute silence. Brienne was holding her breath, waiting for the axe to fall.

He looked away from her, eyes looking into the distance.

“I don’t know if father thought about killing Tyrion, but I know Cersei did. Maybe she even tried. I don’t know. She would talk about how much better life would be without him and when she got angry, she said a lot of things... Things that scared me. But I don’t think she understood that killing him wouldn’t bring our mother back. It changed her, that hatred, but I didn’t see it at the time. I was too blinded by how much I needed her. I just knew I had to protect him. I tried to protect him, but I know she tortured him, despite my best efforts.” His brow was creased in regret and pain. She wanted to comfort him, but she knew it would be empty. Had he and Tyrion ever talked about any of this?

“So, we clung together in grief, she and I. We'd always done everything together and now, we were allowed so much more freedom. I think our teachers let us be together, thinking it was a kindness, to let us be together to mourn. And it was, I suppose. I didn’t want to be alone. I've never been good at being alone.”

Brienne understood that. She’d seen it, from their very first days together. Brienne wasn’t a social creature. But it was his need for connection was what had bonded them, even as prisoner and jailor. He’d talked to her, incessantly, trying to have any kind of social contact.

Being stuck in a cage alone had injured him in ways that she couldn’t understand. Isolation and humiliation had been the most effective weapons the Starks could ever have used against him.

She sometimes wondered what he’d been like before that year in captivity. She suspected she wouldn’t have been able to stand him. Even after the year in a cage she’d barely been able to put up with his arrogance and insults. She’d seen through the bluster and façade though. Thank the Seven she had, or their lives would be vastly different.

“We only grew closer. It was like we were the same person. She called us mirrors and two halves of a whole.” Brienne wondered at the arrogance of that – falling in love with someone who was exactly like themselves. It spoke to the Lannister vanity and narcissism. Like no one else could be good enough for them, but themselves.

“It made sense that we learnt everything together. She learnt more about fighting than most ladies and I learnt more about sewing than most men. I was good at it too.” He wore a slight smile, like he was proud of his embroidery skills. Brienne had hated it as a child, forced to practice for hours. The endless pin pricks had hurt more than any of her sword training injuries, because each one was laced with frustration at not being what she knew she should be – a perfect noble lady. It wasn’t that she never tried. It’s that no matter how hard she tried, it never suited her.

She wondered if he could still embroider. Maybe he could teach her one day. If they had a one day.

“When we reached the age where the opposite sex started to become fascinating, we didn’t need to waste our time with anyone else. If I had any questions or feelings, I told her. She was the only girl I knew, because she never let the other young ladies near me, and I knew she wouldn’t judge me when I asked dumb questions about moon blood or boobs. She taught me, guided me.”

The happiness of imagining a young Jaime sewing disappeared in an instant. Brienne closed her eyes, knowing what came next.

“We were 12 the first time. I’ve heard other men talk about being afraid their first time. But I wasn't. I didn’t need to be. It was just us, together, like always. We didn’t plan it, it just happened.” He made it sound almost natural and it scared Brienne how much she could understand how natural it must have felt.

Brienne had been scared her first time. She’d been shaking, but Jaime had been so patient, so gentle. Her hands shook now, but he wasn't there to soothe her. Now he sat in front of her breaking her heart not at all gently.

“I didn’t know it was wrong. After all, all the great Targaryen kings had married their sisters. That’s what we’d learnt. All my heroes, from Aegon the Conqueror to Aerys, they’d all married their family. Father married his cousin. How was that any different?” He sounded defensive. Brienne still hadn’t opened her eyes, still couldn’t bear to see him defend what they’d done, even though she believed that he genuinely hadn’t understood the implications. At least at the beginning.

“Cersei knew though. I just don’t think she cared. By the time I learnt, we’d been together so long I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. I needed her. She was the smart one, the strong one. Without her I was nothing. She was my better half.”

The urge to interrupt and reassure him clawed at her, but she couldn’t.

“We were discovered once. I’m surprised it was only once. We were so young and reckless. It was a septa. I don’t know what happened to her, since I never saw her again...” He trailed off. Brienne opened her eyes again to see him looking conflicted. She wondered what had become of the woman too, but he shook it off quickly and moved on.

The idea that Cersei had killed her septa was in the forefront of her mind. Had she been that ruthless, even as a child?

“When I left to become a squire, I think she resented me. It was the first place she couldn’t follow me, and it made her so angry. I’d never seen that side of her before, at least, not directed at me. She slapped me, punched me, screamed at me. Told me I was abandoning her. I hated leaving her too, but I wanted to be a knight. I didn’t want to leave Tyrion either, leaving him in a house with people who hated him like they did. But I wanted to be a great warrior.”

She imagined a young Jaime, like so many hopeful and fresh-faced boys before him, packing up to join the ranks of their heroes, hoping to make the world a better place. She’d seen so many young squires and soldiers. She knew what they were like. She’d been one herself, once upon a time. She wished she’d known him then, even though she hadn’t yet been born when he joined Lord Crakehall. She was but a babe when Ser Arthur had knighted him.  

“Father pushed me to do it and I followed. I wanted him to be happy again. I wanted his love.”

The thought that he’d felt so desperate to earn his father’s love and acceptance caused another stab in Brienne’s chest. Her father gave his love freely. She couldn’t imagine a world without her father’s support. But she’d also seen fathers who withheld their love, used it as a reward for well-behaved children who did their bidding. She hated it.

“I don’t think he saw what Cersei and I had become, but I think he knew that he needed to distance us. He told me I needed to toughen up. I’d been spending too much time doing women’s chores.” He swallowed and looked at her again, the first time since he’d started his story.

“Then I became a knight and joined the Kingsguard. I was the happiest I’d ever been, training with the best swordsman in the realm. But it was all a ploy by Aerys to ensure I couldn’t leave and that my father would have no heirs. I was a prisoner, but I was happy. For a time. You know how that ended.” His face held all the pain it had all those years ago in the Harrenhal baths. Her heart ached for him again, but she knew he wasn’t done confessing.

“And then Cersei married Robert, because father made her. I hated it, tried to stop it, but what could I do? I’d abandoned her and she wanted to be queen. The only way to do that was marry that selfish, drunken whoremonger. She despised him too. But we were together again, in King’s Landing.” She knew what was coming and she tried to breathe through it.

“We'd both changed in the time we’d been apart. I’d become an adult, a knight. She'd become harder, fiercer. More like Tywin than mother. For a time, we were just brother and sister again. But I missed her.”

“Robert became more and more abusive. He still loved Lyanna and never let Cersei forget it.” His voice had become colder and harsher than the Northern winds. His disgust for Robert scared Brienne. She hadn’t known Robert like she’d known Renly. It was almost hard to imagine that Renly’s brother could be so different from him, but she’d known Stannis. She’d never taken happiness from taking a life, but she'd felt a satisfaction like none other when she'd dealt justice to the man who'd killed her king.

“He beat her. She came to me, for comfort and love. I used that. I took advantage of it. And nine months later, Joffrey was born.”

Brienne hadn’t known Joffrey, only meeting him on the day of his wedding and his death. She went through a lot that day, but seeing the look on Jamie’s face as he saw his son murdered in front of him had stayed with her. It had haunted her.

Cersei had been right. She'd loved Jaime even then.

“I wasn’t supposed to be a father. I’d taken my oath and I knew that Cersei having my children was against the law of God’s and men. But when I saw her holding Joffrey for the first time, I pledged that I would give my everything for him. And for Myrcella and Tommen. I loved them, more than life itself.” His emerald eyes had begun to mist over, and Brienne saw for the first time the pure, true love he’d felt for his children.  

“And Cersei did too. I think she wanted to be the mother to them that our mother had been to us. She wanted to give them the life that she thought had been stolen from us. I wanted it too. To have what mother and father had. I was desperate to have my family safe and loved. But I wasn't allowed to be a father to them or a husband to her. Robert didn’t care about them at all, even though he somehow believed they were his. But Cersei couldn’t even love them like she wanted. She’d become too much like our father, pushing them to feed her ambition. They suffered because of us.” A tear rolled down his cheek. His voice cracked.

“I had to be nothing more than uncle Jaime and watch as another man raised my children and hurt the woman I loved. I wanted to kill him. But instead I had to guard him and watch him drink and whore himself to death. Of all the kings I served, I wish it’d been him I killed.” He growled. She saw how hard that must have been, to stand by, unable to say anything. Brienne's heart broke for him.

“And then the honourable Lord Eddard Stark learnt the truth about us. That lying, hypocritical idiot. He couldn't leave well enough alone.” He shook his head and scoffed. She wished she’d known the Stark patriarch. She was torn between admiration for a man who put honour before everything else and hatred that he had caused Jaime so much pain.

“My children died because of me. Because I loved Cersei and was a selfish, arrogant man. They died because I couldn’t save them. Do you know what it's like to watch your children die, because you’re a failure?” His watery eyes bore into hers, begging for understanding. Despite the pain she felt, she reached out and took his left hand, which was clutched into a tight fist, into both of hers.

“I don’t,” She whispered.

“I can’t go through that again, Brienne. Losing my children was worse than losing my hand, which almost cost me everything. My sword hand, my life’s work, Cersei could barely look at me, my father was disappointed, disgusted. Everything I’d worked for, gone. Because I defended you.” He looked at her, and Brienne couldn’t read the emotions on his face. She’d seen him lose his will to survive after losing his hand. The only thing that had kept him going was her nagging and the thought of getting back to King’s Landing… To his children and to Cersei.

He’d lost his hand because of her. He should hate her for that.

“Do you wish you hadn’t done it? Do you wish you still had your hand?” She asked. For the first time since he’d started his rant, she knew it was alright for her to speak.

“Of course, I wish I still had my hand.” His voice was rough and harsh. She flinched.

“But I don’t regret stopping them. I did what I needed to do. If you’d asked me then, I would’ve taken it back in an instant. But not now.” His fist marginally relaxed in her grasp. His bright eyes looked into hers, searchingly.

Brienne’s heart was racing, but she needed to ask. She took a deep breath and asked,

“Do you still love her?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, the conversation continues. What will his reply be?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime answers the question: Does he still love Cersei?   
> Brienne and Jaime keep talking through the past. Then the tables are turned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, they talk about Jaime and Cersei's relationship, because it needs to be addressed.

He looked at her, hurt, but not surprised. He deserved the question and she deserved the truth. He wanted her to understand his complex feelings towards his family. He wanted her to know and accept him, all of him, even if he didn’t deserve it.

“No. Not the way you think.” He shook his head vigorously. His head span a little, still feeling slightly under the weather from the alcohol he’d consumed the night before. Luckily it didn’t affect his stomach.

“Then how?” Brienne pulled her hands away from his, crossing her arms over her chest.

He sighed. She had every right to pull away from him, after all he’d just confessed. He’d made his choices, but had he really had a choice? A lot of his life had been dictated by the whims of others. His father, Cersei, the many kings he’d served, including his sons. They’d all ordered him around and made his decisions for him. It wasn’t until scarily recently that he figured out that he could make his own decisions.

Like walking away from Cersei and following what he knew was right. He’d found his moral compass again. He tried not to think about the fact that he might never have found it again if not for Brienne.

“She is - was - my sister. My closest friend for my entire life. The mother to my children. For that, she’ll always mean something to me. I’ll always love her.” He watched Brienne's face become a blank slate and her eyes dull. She was closing herself off from him again.

“But she changed. I thought I loved her, like I always had. I thought I needed her, but I didn’t. I tried to cling on to the sweet, innocent Cersei I’d known as a child. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. I don’t think I truly knew her, after I joined the Kingsguard. The time apart made us very different people.” He wasn’t sure at what point Cersei had become unreachable. He suspected it had been a long time ago and he’d either been too dumb or blind to notice.

“I wanted to save her. Save her from Robert and from herself. But I couldn’t. I failed. She used me. I was just another person to manipulate and I let her do it. Until the end. I didn’t let her manipulate me then.” He looked at her, trying to connect with her. Imploring her to understand. He’d broken free and walked away of his own free will. But she looked away again, stating at the floor at her feet.

“I killed her. I loved her and I killed her. What does that make me? I’ve killed for many reasons, but killing someone I love, my own flesh and blood? That makes me worse than a Kingslayer. I killed her and I felt... numb. I was all she had left, in the end.” He stopped. He was rambling and he knew it. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t let himself go down that road too far. He couldn’t let himself see Cersei's eyes as she’d faded away, her voice, as she begged and choked. It was too much. He thought he’d made his peace with it, but he didn’t think he ever truly could. It was just another sin in his long list.

“The most honourable things I’ve done, killing Aerys, saving you… They cost me everything. Sometimes I wish I could take it all back. But I can’t. And I don’t want to. When I became the Kingslayer, I became feared and despised. I’d never been anything but respected, because of my name, my looks, my knighthood. When I lost my hand, I wanted to die... But you pushed me to live, pushed me to become a better person.” He slipped off his chair onto the floor in front of her. She looked over his shoulder, still avoiding his eyes, but he hadn’t finished grovelling yet.  

“I’ve hurt you. And I know I will again, because I don’t think, and I hurt the people I love. I reacted badly last night, and I lashed out at you. But it wasn’t your fault. I’m simply not worthy of being a king, or a lord, or anything. You know the things I’ve done.”

She finally spoke again.

“I do know. You’ve done things that you regret, but you’re not that man anymore. You made the difficult choices to do the right thing, even when it nearly killed you. That’s why you’ll be a good king.”

It frustrated him that she still saw only the best in him. Even after all he’d confessed to.

“I don’t care about being king. Kings are terrible people,” She went to interrupt him, but he held his hand up, “I only care that you understand that I’m not a good man, and I don’t deserve you. But I love you, you stubborn wench.” He looked up at her, and for the first time since he’d started confessing, she met his eyes. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but he let himself hope. She’d have no problem kicking him out if she’d decided against him.

“I will understand if you don’t want to marry me. But I’m still here, still offering, still willing to try, if you’ll have me.” He took her hand, holding it tightly.

“I can’t undo the things you’ve done. I can’t fix your problems. I can’t erase the past. And I can’t put up with you running away at the first sign of trouble. I won’t do it,” She replied. She was fierce and determined and Jaime envied her fearlessness. She was no timid little woman.

He steeled himself for the rejection.

“But I can be here for you. I can love and support you. If you let me. Will you let me?” Her eyes were warm again. The beautiful blue of a summer sky. He fell in love with her once more.

“Yes, Brienne. I will.” If she was willing to take him back, after everything, he wasn’t going to say no. He kissed her knuckles, pouring his gratefulness into the gesture. “I promise that I’ll try. I’ll try to talk to you, and not just run away. The thing is…” He dropped his voice to a whisper.

“I’ve never loved anyone who isn’t related to me before. I don’t know how to do any of this.” He’d never even had friends. Not really.He'd had loyal soldiers and brothers in arms. He’d had mentors and apprentices. But not friends. It wasn’t like Bronn counted. He and Brienne had perhaps been friends for a time, but it was jumbled up first with their loathing, then their respect and later their love that he didn’t know where it began or ended.

“Neither do I. But we can work it out together. Now get off the floor.” That was his Brienne – jumping into the unknown, even if she was afraid. Her bravery made him braver too.

He sat back in his chair. He didn’t let go of her hand, afraid she might disappear if he let her go.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out. You’ve got the brains and I’ve got the brawn.” She snorted at him and it made him feel so much lighter. They’d survived his admissions. She was still, somehow, willing to put up with him. “So, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know. What happens when I go back to Winterfell?”

“I go with you. Though I’m not looking forward to freezing my balls off again.” He shrugged.

“Jaime, you can’t just follow me to Winterfell!” She admonished him. He gave her one of his charming smiles that dimpled his cheeks and had been known to make many a women swoon.

“Why not? I’ve done it before. You weren’t exactly complaining then.” He winked at her. She scowled at him, seemingly immune to his charms.

“You have responsibilities.”

“So do you,” He replied. He knew he was being deliberately obtuse, but he was worried about her reaction when she found out the truth.

“Yes, but my responsibilities don’t include ruling an entire kingdom.” She spoke as if she was talking to a simpleton, scolding him like his maester had when he got distracted or bored during lessons. It was very much like a disappointed mother.

“Brienne, listen to me. My responsibility as your husband is to be by your side. If you want to go traipsing into the frozen hellscape of the North again, it’s my duty to be there with you, whether I want to or not.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. She looked at him as if he’d gone mad.

“Your role as a king supersedes that of my husband and you know it.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He shook his head, trying desperately to think of a way out of the conversation without revealing too much.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” She scoffed.

“I don’t want to be king.” He made sure to enunciate each word, putting as much truth behind each as possible.

“But you are, whether you want it or not.”

“But, I’m not. I abdicated.” He held his breath as he awaited her reaction. She’d have found out eventually. He was just hoping she would find out after they were married, and she couldn’t leave him for making such a seemingly stupid decision.

“What?” She was staring at him, clearly bewildered. He gave her a tentative smile and hoped she’d forgive him one more time. Maybe she’d gotten her hopes up for being queen and would be mad that he gave it up? It didn’t seem like the kind of thing she’d do, but Jaime had seen power do crazier things to people.

“I gave it to Tyrion.”

“You what?” She didn’t seem angry, but he still shrunk away from her slightly at the tone of her voice.

“I forfeited my claim to the title of Lord Lannister when I became a Kingsguard.” He began to explain.

“But don’t you want it?”

“I did.” He paused. He’d grown up being groomed to take over as Lord Lannister. Tywin made sure of it. Hour upon hour of lessons... all of them wasted when he became a knight and forgot everything but how it felt to swing his sword.

“I’ve thought about it before. When I wished I’d never joined the Kingsguard. But that was many moons ago. I don’t need the Rock anymore. I have you and our life together.” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she pulled away from him.

“You’re not just giving it up for me, are you?” She asked meekly.

“No. I’m not. But I would.” He couldn’t ask her to give up her life and her dreams, still so new and untainted, to rebuild the ruins of his. A crown and his ancestral seat wasn’t what he needed to move on. She was. 

“You wouldn’t. It’s your home.” She argued.

“It was. A long time ago. But I left when I was still a child. It hasn’t been my home for a long time. To be honest, nowhere has been home for a long time. Not Casterly, not King’s Landing, not even Winterfell.”

“I’m not worth it.” She whispered, dropping her eyes back to the floor. He barely heard her.

“What do you mean you’re not worth it?” He was so confused. He'd already sacrificed so much for her. What more was a royal title to add to the tally?

“Why would you be willing to give up a crown for me?” She looked into his eyes. His heart broke at the hurt he saw in them. He knew it wasn’t just him that had put it there this time.

“Because I love you.” He watched her as he said it, but she still didn’t seem to believe it. Not like he wanted her to. She kept her shoulders slumped, curled in on herself slightly.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He squeezed her hand again, tugging on it until she sighed and released some of the tension.

“Why me?” She asked, morosely.

He thought about it for a moment, not sure how to put how he felt into words. Eventually he had an idea.

"You never met Lyanna Stark, did you?" He asked. Brienne looked at him, clearly bewildered by the non sequitur. Her raised eyebrow showed her confusion, but she answered him anyway.

"No." He didn’t think she would’ve. She would’ve been too young when she died.  

"Elia Martell was beautiful. Everyone who saw her fell instantly in love with her. She was tanned, tall and slender. Effortlessly graceful. She had dark eyes, so intelligent and kind. Exactly what a Dornish queen should be." Brienne was getting more confused by the second, but he had a point and he was going to get to it.

"Which of the Stark girls is more beautiful?" At his second unrelated question in as many minutes, she was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

"I don't judge the Starks by looks,” She replied, obstinately. She seemed offended at the very idea.

"Just answer the damn question, wench,” He huffed. She glared at him, but he simply looked at her steadily and waited.

"Sansa. She's traditionally beautiful, graceful and fair. Not that it matters." She clearly hated saying it. It looked like the words tasted disgusting.

"Lyanna was very much like Arya," He replied. He hardly known her, but he’d seen her at tourneys. She’d been enthralled by the action and Jaime had heard she loved to take up the sword herself. He thought she and Arya were more alike than just looks. Of the Stark children, Jaime would’ve bet his money on Arya being her child, not Jon, though Jon and Arya shared many traits. But obviously Lyanna had been dead well before Arya was born.

"She was?"

"She was... pretty, I suppose. A few would say she was beautiful, but not the same stunning as Elia. Yet Rhaegar and Robert tore the world apart for her.” Stupid, selfish men, who had made stupid, selfish decisions for a woman. Jaime had been guilty of the same, but he still couldn’t help but judge them for it.

“Why?”

“Because there was something about her. She was fierce and strong. She was more a warrior than lady.” He had admired her, even as Cersei scoffed at her. Cersei had called her _unladylike_ and _headstrong_. Jaime hadn’t understood it. Lyanna might not have acted like the other ladies, curtsying and giggling, but she was a noble lady, nonetheless.

He suspected Cersei had been intimidated and jealous of the attention Lyanna got from Rhaegar and the other lords. He’d done his best to calm Cersei, feeding her ego, but she’d never liked Lyanna. And then she’d married Robert, who was still in love with her ghost. After the years of emotional abuse at the hands of Robert, reminding her over and over how he’d wanted Lyanna, not her, Jaime had come to dislike Lyanna too, blaming her for their misfortunes. And it was partially true. Lyanna had been the person who caused Robert to rebel, starting a chain of events that had caused Jaime and his family nothing but misery.

But it hadn’t been her fault. Jaime had said before that you can’t choose who you love.

“In the eyes of the world, she wasn’t special. But to Rhaegar, she was apparently worth risking it all. And to me, you are worth risking it all.” Even as he said it, he could tell she didn’t believe it. It broke his heart that she had been hurt so many times. He had been one of the people who had hurt her. He hated himself for that.

“But I’m nothing special.” She said it like it was a fact. It sounded rehearsed, like something she’d heard and learnt to repeat.

“That’s what I’m saying. You’re special to me. And you _are_ special. You’re the first female knight. You’re honourable and strong.”

“But not beautiful.” She seemed resigned.

“Why do you think you’re not beautiful?” His voice was harsher than he had intended, almost reproachful. He saw her straighten her spine in return and look at him, dead in the eyes.

“I’m not blind. And even if I was, every person I’ve ever met has made enough comments to confirm to me just how not beautiful I am.”

“But you are.” He tried to make her believe it, but she was immovable.

“You have called me a beast, a man, ugly, a cow… That’s just you. How many other names do you think I’ve heard over my life? Hundreds. Insults and snide comments, from men and women alike.” He wanted to hunt down everybody who had ever hurt her and make them regret it. But she was right, he would have to start with himself. The damage he did, first when he was her captive and again when he left her in Winterfell, was unforgivable.

“They didn’t know you. I didn’t know you, when I called you those things. But I know you now. And I know how beautiful you are. You radiate goodness. Even when I was hurling insults at you, you never stooped to my level.”

“I called you Kingslayer,” She pointed out. It was bizarre to hear the old name coming from her now, after so much time. She said it with as much disdain as she had said it with then, but pointed in a different direction. The hatred was pointed at those who believed it, at herself for believing it. And at the name itself.

“You did, but that is true. I did slay my king.” And he’d learnt to live with the name and all it entailed. He surrounded himself with the insult and used it as a shield.

“And it’s true that I’m… not ladylike. Or pretty. Or beautiful.” She shrugged.

“You’re better than those things. And I love you, whether you accept it or not. You have shown me kindness when no one else has, even when you hated me. You looked beyond my reputation and accepted me. That’s more worthy of love and respect than having nice hair, big boobs or being ‘ladylike’. I’ve met plenty of ladies who were far less worthy of respect, who were horrible, petty people. You aren’t.” She was the best person he’d ever met. That she judged herself by her looks made him angry. The world had convinced her that looks were all that mattered and that since she wasn’t attractive, she was worth less than those who were. It was wrong.

“People aren’t going to believe that you want to marry me.” She smiled sadly at him. Her hand that wasn’t still clasped in his made its way up into his hair, stroking the gold and silver strands, before settling on his face. She was looking at him like he’d seen other women, and some men, look at him. Like he was beautiful.

“Why not?” He asked.

“Because I have been rejected before, by far worse men than you.” She sneered. Her hand dropped to settle back in her lap.

“Worse than an oathbreaker?”

“Yes,” She answered instantly and without emotion.

“Tell me about them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm struggling. I need some opinions, please. Of all the people who are still alive in this fic, who deserves a spare castle and to be crowned monarch? I had someone in mind, but I think their story goes somewhere else. So anyone got any ideas? 
> 
> Also, poor Jaime and Brienne have been so badly hurt. I wanna hug them. They're getting there though. Slowly, but surely.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Brienne's turn to talk.  
> A new - but familiar to Brienne - face appears in Kingslanding.

Jaime wanted to hear more about Brienne. She knew his entire life now. Good and bad. Mostly bad. Yet, she was still a mystery to him. He knew the basics, of course. They had discussed some things during their time in Winterfell and their time as captor and prisoner. But he wanted to know who could possibly turn her down. 

“I’d rather not.” She obviously didn’t want to talk about it, but Jaime was just as stubborn as she was.

“Brienne, after all I just told you, you think I am going to judge you for the sins of a stupid lesser lord who couldn’t appreciate you?”

She seemed to think about it. She searched his face, searching for something. He met her eyes steadily when she finally looked back up at them. He could be patient for her. It may not be one of his strong suits, but he wanted to know and he would wait until she was ready. 

She swallowed and began hesitantly.

“My first betrothal happened when I was only seven, when I might still have grown into a proper lady. But he died. His name was Pearse Caron, the second son of Lord Bryen Caron. I met him once. He seemed a sweet, if timid boy.” There was a sort of wistfulness about her that surprised him. Had she really formed an attachment so young?  

“The second was to Ser Ronnet Connington.” She stopped. She was tense and she wasn’t looking at him anymore, all wistfulness gone. Her face was stone. He wanted her smiles back. 

“You have quite a talent for attracting those kissed by fire, wench,” He joked. Jaime had met Ronnet ‘Red’ Connington. The red-headed knight was rude and dishonourable, and Jaime was glad she hadn’t married that dim-witted fool. She deserved so much better.

When she didn’t react to his teasing, he realised that joking only hurt her more. He stroked her hand trying to soothe the ache. She gave him a weak smile in return. It didn’t touch her eyes.

“He told me that all I would ever get from him was the rose he presented me. He called off the engagement. I knew why, though he never said it to my face. I suppose I should be thankful for that, at least.” She didn't sound the least bit thankful. 

Jaime had learnt of their engagement from the man himself, at Harrenhal, and when he’d called Brienne a freak, Jaime had hit him. He’d slapped him with his golden hand. It had been satisfying, to see him sprawled on the ground, bleeding and afraid. Jaime hadn’t known the extent of his feelings for Brienne then, but he should’ve. It was obvious looking back.  

He’d hit him then, but now Jaime had heard her side and saw the pain she tried to hide, he wished he’d done much worse. His hand squeezed hers, almost involuntarily. He imagined wrapping it around that idiot's throat, balling it into a fist and punching him again until he begged for her forgiveness, or curling it around Widow’s Wail, before threatening him to never insult her again.

He’d never told her about meeting Connington, too afraid to tell her what the man had said about her. But she’d already known. Of course, she had.

“I’ll kill him,” He growled.

“No, you won't.” She shook her head.

“Why not?” He argued.

“Because I won't let you.” Her tone brooked no argument.

She was purer and more forgiving than someone in her position had any right to be.

“The third was an old man. A friend of my father. A small former knight, Ser Humfrey Wagstaff, who offered to marry me when I was 16. He wanted Tarth and an obedient, submissive wife.”

Jaime could see where this was going, but he waited for her to continue.

“He said he wouldn’t tolerate his wife wearing men’s clothes and playing with swords. He said he’d punish me if I tried. I said I’d comply with his wishes,” She paused. Jaime was surprised to hear that, but his surprise was replaced with delight when she continued, “If he could beat me in a fight... I broke his collarbone and two ribs.”

Jaime guffawed. Brienne gave him a wide, cheeky grin and it made him laugh harder.

“Serves the bastard right,” He laughed.

“He decided that he didn’t want to marry me after that.”

“I’m not surprised!” He managed between bouts of laughter. It was a full belly laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. It felt nice to have a moment like this with Brienne, after everything they’d discussed and all they’d been through.

“Oh Brienne, you are brilliant.” He finished laughing on a sigh.

“You’re the only one who thinks so,” She said, still not convinced by his arguments.

“So, what if I am? Fuck anyone who doesn’t see it. Fuck anyone who judges us. My father always said, ‘the lion doesn’t concern itself with the opinions of sheep’.”

“My dad always said, ‘words are wind’. But it’s hard to believe that when the person telling you you’re ugly and unlovable is your septa.” She shrugged, looking away. 

“She what?” Jaime couldn’t believe that an apparently pious woman, employed to teach and guide a young woman would say such a thing. If this septa was still alive, he was going to hunt her down.

“She tried her hardest to make me presentable and ladylike, but she hated being stuck with me as a pupil. She said that no man would ever desire me. The reason I loved Renly was because he was the only man I ever met who never insulted me. How sad is that? That the first person who treated me with the most basic of human decency, I fell in love with. But of course, he didn’t desire me. He couldn’t. As manly as I was always told I was, I wasn’t manly enough.” She gave a humourless snort. 

“The men in Renly's camp only proved how undesirable I was when they made a bet of who could take ‘Brienne the Beauty's’ maidenhead.”

“How dare they?” Jaime was furious. “I desire you. And I have for a long time.”

“How long?” She asked, flushing. Her eyes found his and then flittered away again just as quickly. 

He thought about lying, making a joke of it as he did with everything, but he sensed it had taken a lot of courage to ask and he knew it was too sensitive a subject that even an obvious joke wouldn’t be well received. His jokes and cavalier attitude weren’t needed here. So, he told her the truth.

“Since Harrenhal’s bath room.”

“Really?” She looked so shocked and adorably shy. He desired her then, but he desired her far more now, after all they'd been through. 

“Yes. The way you stood up to me. No one had ever spoken to me like that," She'd been rude, but it had been entirely justified. He'd admired her strength and courage.

"Besides," He smirked, "You were naked and wet, and I’d been locked alone in a cage for a year, without even my hand for company. What about you, wench?” He turned the tables.

“The same time,” She admitted sheepishly. Jaime grinned at her, delighted that even then he’d inspired lust in her, even through the barrier of her disdain. 

“Really, wench? I was half dead and looked like a homeless man.”

“You did. But you were still beautiful, still strong and proud, even though you were feverish and had a year’s worth of grime on you.” She grinned back at him. He hated that her smiles were so rare but pleased that he somehow managed to win them occasionally. They were the sweetest prize.

“So, we could have been fucking since then?” He joked. Unlike before, he knew Brienne would take this joke as he intended - not at her expense. She laughed.

“No! I wouldn’t have let you touch me.” He would’ve found himself short another appendage or his head if he’d tried then. “We weren’t in the place for that. I don’t think we ever were, until Winterfell.” She looked in his eyes, memories of that first night echoing between them.

He knew that was true. He needed to make the decision to be free of Cersei, for himself and for Brienne. If he’d marched North on Cersei's orders, would Brienne have believed him free of his sister's clutches? He doubted it.

And he couldn't have slept with Brienne if he’d truly still loved Cersei. He’d been loyal to Cersei through everything and to betray her, while she still held his heart, would’ve destroyed him. The guilt would’ve been unbearable.

But when he’d gone to Brienne that night, there'd been only desire and love. Guilt and Cersei had been far from his mind. He’d been Brienne's wholly and completely 

He was hers then, now and for the rest of his days.

He leant forward and captured her lips with his. It was a tender touch. She could pull away if she wanted, but instead, she melted into him with a sigh. They still had a lot to discuss and a lot of moving on to do, but they would do it together.

He led her over to the bed and showed her just how desirable he found her.

 

* * *

 

Lord Selwyn Tarth arrived in King’s Landing a week before the wedding. Brienne and Pod met him at the city gates. When Brienne saw her father again, she had to resist the urge to cry. She hadn’t seen him for too many years, and he had aged considerably. She felt like she’d only been a child when she left the island to join Renly’s army.

“My sunbeam!” He hugged her, wrapping her in the warm hug she remembered from her childhood. Her father was one of the few people who made her feel small. He had been almost a giant to her when she was little. He still stood several inches above her, but he seemed so much smaller than he used to. It might be the lightening of his usual blond hair, now more white than blond or the many lines that wrinkled his face. Or the slight hunch to his still broad shoulders.

He may still be as healthy as any man his age, but his age was now high enough to make her worry. Perhaps it was her age and experience that let her see him from a stranger’s perspective for the first time, see the changes that indicated how much time had passed them by.

“Dad!” She blushed at the old nickname. It was a childhood name. After her mother and sisters died, her father had said that she was the light in the darkness. His sunbeam.

She wasn’t looking at him, but she just knew that Pod was smiling like a lunatic at the cutesy epithet.

“What?” Lord Selwyn acted as if he had no idea why she should be admonishing him.

“I’m a knight of the eight kingdoms now.”

“Alright, Ser sunbeam.” He grinned at her and she sighed. She knew it was a lost cause, she just hoped he wouldn’t be as embarrassing in front of Jaime.

Jaime had decided not to join her greeting her father. He thought it might be best to let Brienne talk to him alone first. And hopefully convince him that he was worthy of her. Brienne hadn’t fought him on it. She wasn’t entirely sure how her father was going to react. He was a kind man, in general. But he had been a soldier in his youth and had not been afraid to let her know that he would protect her in any way he deemed necessary. She hoped that didn’t include stabbing her fiancé.

“Lord Selwyn Tarth, this is Podrick Payne.” She gestured for Pod to step forward. He bowed and held out his hand. Her father smiled at her as he took her squire’s hand.

“This is the famous ‘Pod’ I’ve heard so much of.”

“Yes, My Lord. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Tarth.” Now it was Pod’s turn to blush. Brienne was filled with pride at how far Pod had come. He stood tall and proud in front of her, facing down a rather intimidating figure. Only a few months ago, it would have been a much more timid greeting. But not now.

She really must knight him before too long. 

“Let’s get you into the Keep, shall we?” Brienne asked. Her father followed her as they made their way through the streets that had become so familiar to her.

“I never thought I’d see the day you would be so accustomed to the capital,” Her father idly commented. They had settled down for a late lunch in his chambers. Pod had scurried off to be Brienne’s proxy by Sansa’s side. She hoped he wasn’t going to get as bored of the wedding preparations as she was. Or at least that he would be able to hide it better. Sansa's need to be in control and perfectly organised was a bonus for her and Jaime's wedding, but it was also exhausting.

“Neither did I. But being cooped up here for so long means I have had more than enough time to explore and become familiar with it.”

“Like you have become familiar with Jaime Lannister?” He asked. She knew the conversation was coming. And she had inherited many things from her father. Her blunt honesty was one of those things. Still, she wasn’t looking forward to it.

She wished she had the diplomatic ways of her soon to be brother, Tyrion. No matter what she said, she knew her father would see through her. 

“Ser Jaime and I have known each other for far longer than I’ve been in the capital.” 

His raised eyebrow had her shrinking in her chair. Like he somehow knew _exactly_ how well they knew each other. She desperately hoped her face wasn't giving anything away and that he hadn’t heard the gossip about them.

“Since you had him as your prisoner?” He asked.

“Yes. Since then. But he also helped me to protect Queen Sansa,” The new title still tripped her up occasionally, but she was getting used to it, “And he fought with us against the dead.”

She stopped herself before she could start rambling about all the good things that Jaime had ever done.

“You trust him?” He asked. He was looking at her, more seriously than she could ever remember. Even that time when she’d chopped all her own hair off and declared that she was a warrior.

He was assessing her. She summoned up all her courage.

“I do,” She paused. She knew that he deserved the full truth. “I haven’t always trusted him. He’s broken my trust more than once. But he’s a good man and he’s doing his best to earn it back.”

"And you believe he will earn it back?"

"I do." There was no hesitation.  

Selwyn nodded thoughtfully, stroking his beard. She knew not to keep speaking, instead letting him digest her words.

“If you think he is worthy, then he is worthy.”

She had to stop herself from reacting too much to his words, but from the smug smile on her father’s face, he knew that he had stunned her.

“You aren’t going to question or threaten him, are you?” She asked him, suspicious. It all seemed too easy.

“Sunbeam, I learnt long ago that I can’t stop you from doing exactly what it is that you want to do. If marrying this man will make you happy, then I’m happy. My attempts at matchmaking failed spectacularly, so I know to leave this decision to you.”

Brienne was filled with love and admiration for her father. He’d let her go off to fulfill her dreams, no matter how insane they had sounded. Most ladies stayed at home with their parents until they were married, or if they were to be educated elsewhere, they would be sent to another noble house. But Brienne had spent years, wandering the countryside.

It was unconventional by most standards. Downright uncouth by others. But he’d let her do it. She could never thank him enough. 

“Thanks, dad.” She stood and bent to hug him, as he still sat in his chair. He seemed a bit taken aback by the gesture, not being an overly physically affectionate man, but as she sat again, he wore a fond smile beneath his beard, and she could tell he was pleased.

“Besides, he only has one hand. If he displeased you, I doubt he would have a chance against you, no matter how good a swordsman he apparently used to be.”

She snorted a laugh and they resumed eating. She'd clearly been worried about nothing.  

 

* * *

 

Jaime was reading. It wasn’t a common pastime for him, but he’d adopted it more as his isolation in the Keep had dragged on. His current reading material was a book he’d borrowed from the Keep library about Tarth. It was interesting to learn about the island and Brienne’s ancestors. Tales of Ser Duncan the Tall were legend amongst the Kingsguard. It didn’t surprise him that she was related to the famous knight. He just wished he could’ve met Ser Duncan.

There was a knock at the door. Jaime looked up from his book, confused. He wasn’t expecting a visitor. Brienne and Tyrion were both in meetings all day and there weren’t many other people who would choose to spend their time with him. Maybe Podrick, but he’d been spending a lot of his time with his young lady friend, when he wasn’t squiring. Sometimes Bronn passed by, but it was rare. Bronn had received his gold and a modest castle in the Westerlands to call home, courtesy of the Lannister brothers. He was now on the hunt for a wife. Jaime pitied her, whoever she ended up being.

Jaime opened the door and looked up at the man on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so nearly finished writing. I'm so excited to actually finish something this huge. I really didn't plan on it being so long, but I've enjoyed every second. 
> 
> Your comments and kudos are fuel for my writing bug. Thank you to everyone who has read this. You are breathtaking. Like Keanu.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Selwyn pays Jaime a visit and the night before the wedding gets interesting...

“Ser Jaime Lannister,” The man greeted him.

“Lord Tarth.” Jaime bowed his head.

He recognised the man immediately. He’d met Lord Selwyn Tarth before at a wedding when Jaime had been only 25 or so. All lords tended to meet at one function or another, at a wedding or coronation. Even lords from opposite sides of Westeros were bound to make acquaintances before too long. Besides which, Jaime didn’t know too many people this tall and broad. The fact he had to look up to the man meant that he could’ve guessed his identity easily. Along with the nose, blue eyes, and blond hair… While his hair had streaks of silver and his eyes a duller, lighter blue than Brienne’s, the resemblance was such that it was obvious. He had to wonder what Brienne inherited of her mother.

“May we speak for a few moments?” Selwyn asked.

“Of course, My Lord. Please, come in.” He opened the door with a bow to let him in. Jaime was glad that his happier disposition lately – thanks to a certain someone – meant that his chambers were much cleaner.

It didn’t hurt that she spent most of her nights there too, but he definitely wasn’t going to tell her father that.

He’d also opened the windows to let the crisp spring air in. Winter was behind them.

He waited until Lord Selwyn had his back to him to swallow his nerves. He was trying his hardest not to let his fear show. He was a knight. He could do this.

They sat at Jaime’s table awkwardly. Jaime fought the urge to fidget as he searched for something to say.

“You look older than the last time we saw each other,” Lord Selwyn began. It wasn’t the politest way to begin a conversation, but Jaime was used to it. Brienne was just as tactful. Jaime didn’t let it bother him. He knew he had aged innumerably in recent times. Being a prisoner, losing his hand, fighting the dead, and languishing in the capital had all taken their toll. 

Whereas with Brienne, he’d reply with a snarky ‘so do you’, he couldn’t do that with his future wife’s father. He needed to make a good impression.

“I have travelled many roads, many of which have not been kind.” That was polite and vague enough, surely?

“You’re also 14 years older than my daughter. You’re closer to my age than hers.” Lord Selwyn's eyes were watching his every move and Jaime felt like he was see through. Selwyn's voice was deep and his figure imposing, but his eyes were kind and intelligent. Like Brienne's. 

“I’m not as old as you though, unlike Ser Wagstaff,” He replied. Selwyn nodded his head once, conceding the point.

“True. But my friend Humfrey is a good and noble man.”

“And I’m not?”

Selwyn didn’t reply, simply staring him down. But Jaime wasn’t going to be cowed. He may not have the way with words his father, sister or brother had, but he wasn’t going to let himself be broken down, when Brienne had absolved him of his crimes. At least in her eyes.

“Brienne is a good and noble woman. The most noble _person_ I have ever met. She's the most honourable and courageous knight I have ever fought with. I respect her immensely.” Compliments were the fastest way to endear yourself to a person, Jaime knew. He'd learnt to manipulate and play people from some of the best. And he knew that her father cared for her greatly. Therefore, a compliment to her was the obvious strategic choice.

And it was the truth. She was far too good for him and everyone, including her father, knew it. 

“She is.” Lord Selwyn's expression didn’t change.

“Do you believe she would propose to a man who she didn’t respect or trust?” He asked. Brienne had informed her father of the circumstances of their engagement, a fact Jaime was glad of. He wanted Lord Selwyn to know that this was her idea. She’d chosen to attach herself to an oath breaker. He couldn’t stand to be accused of forcing her hand or abusing her goodness. Of all the things he could be accused of, abusing or hurting women was not one of those things. Men who would hurt women were the lowest of the low. He would know. He'd known enough of the bastards. 

“No. But Brienne’s taste in men hasn’t always been the best,” Lord Selwyn countered.

“Renly Baratheon, while he had his flaws, was a good man. Better than his brothers, at the very least.” Jaime couldn’t believe he was defending Renly fucking Baratheon, but such was the state of his life.

“Being better than the lecherous Robert and the stodgy Stannis is hardly a glowing recommendation,” Selwyn huffed. He had a point. 

“It isn't. But she respects and trusts me. Isn’t that recommendation enough?” He asked, frustrated. 

The conversation felt like a sword fight. Parry and strike. Back and forth. Block and dodge. Offensive and defensive. That was a feeling Jaime knew well. But he was woefully out of practice.

Lord Selwyn smiled a tiny smile. It wasn’t much, but it was there. 

“Does she love you?”

“I believe she does. But that’s a question better suited for Brienne. I won't speak for her, when she's more than capable of speaking for herself,” Jaime answered cautiously. He didn’t know why Lord Selwyn was asking _him_. She said she loved him, and despite everything, he believed her. He hoped her father would too.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes.” This time there was no hesitation. They continued to grow closer, now there were no more secrets between them.

Lord Selwyn nodded approvingly and suddenly he wasn't so scary. Jaime let out a breath of relief.

“I knew she loved you from her first letter to me after you arrived back in King’s Landing.”

That took Jaime by surprise. She’d loved him even then?

“She’s never spoken of anyone the way she spoke of you. Not even Lord Renly. She wrote of ‘Ser Jaime this’ and ‘Ser Jaime that’. She spoke of you with the utmost respect. Quite different from how the rest of Westeros spoke of you. And from her letters from Lady Catelyn's camp.”

Jaime could only imagine what her letters had said from the beginning of their journey together. It made him ill just to think about it. She'd hated him, with good reason.

“I knew what it meant, of what she couldn’t say. But I thought it unrequited. I despaired of yet another broken heart. But I see I was wrong.” Lord Selwyn grinned knowingly. Jaime almost felt like he’d been caught out, to have his feelings so openly acknowledged. But at the same time, it was freeing, to be so openly loved and to love in return. He had no reason to hide. Not anymore.

If he couldn’t admit it now, in front of her father, how could he possibly hope to do so in front of an entire sept full of people?

“Perhaps I didn’t love her then. Maybe I did, I just couldn't see it. But I love her now, more than I ever thought possible.”

“Good. Then I am satisfied.” Lord Selwyn stood with a fatherly smile and held out his hand for Jaime to shake. His left hand.

Jaime stood and took it in his, shaking it with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“Don’t thank me, son. If Brienne so much as hinted at not wanting this marriage, I’d have her taken to Tarth in a heartbeat, and you would regret ever laying eyes on her.”

“Good. I’d expect nothing less.”

Jaime watched Selwyn leave, feeling that he’d survived one of the worst battles of his life. But he _had_ survived, and there was nothing else standing between him and Brienne. He felt light and free, for the first time in years.

 

* * *

 

The wedding was rapidly approaching, and Brienne was feeling increasingly nervous. Every morning, she awoke in a sweat, nerves fluttering her heart and belly. She didn’t know why she was worried. She and Jaime were happier than ever, and she didn’t regret the decision to propose in the slightest. But as she awoke in his arms, she couldn’t help but feel ill.

She didn’t dare tell Jaime, too worried that he would take it badly. She didn’t want him to doubt their relationship or her commitment to him. But she did wonder if he was feeling the same.

This morning, she stayed wrapped in his embrace, thinking things over. Her father and Jaime were getting along. When Jaime had told her that her father had paid him a visit, she was half ready to go and tell her father off. But Jaime had calmed her and told her that their conversation had been… not pleasant exactly, but not as bad as she feared. Since then, they’d all eaten several meals together, her, Jaime, her father and Pod, and she was happy to see them talking and laughing together. It made her heart feel full and her spirits light.

Which was why she was finding her nerves very strange. There seemed to be no reason that they should be playing up. Everything was working out incredibly well. Better than she could ever have hoped.

One nagging thought was what would happen after they were married. The issue of where they would go after the wedding was up to her to decide. Jaime said he’d follow where she led, so she could go back to Winterfell and continue her service to Queen Sansa with no problem. She knew the cold would make Jaime miserable, but she also knew that he would suffer for her. He’d done it before.

But Brienne wasn’t sure that Winterfell was where she belonged anymore. Having her father around was reminding her of how important her home was. Her father was still the Evenstar and hopefully would be for many years to come, but she’d like to be closer to home. Winterfell was about as far from Tarth as she could get, unless she decided to follow Tormund and the Wildlings back North of the Wall. Which was not an option, for many reasons.

Jaime stirred and stretched. He hugged her closer and she heard and felt him sigh in contentment as he nuzzled his face into her neck. Brienne couldn’t help but smile.

“Good morning, wench,” He grumbled. His voice was deep and rough from sleep. 

“Morning, my love,” She replied. She turned in his arms to face him. He was watching her, eyes lazily open, like a lounging cat. She had no doubt he could be up and ready to fight in a moment. But she was glad that there was no need.

“I love you,” He whispered.

“I love you too,” She replied, kissing him lightly. Under the covers, with the curtains closed, she could let herself believe that they were the only people on the planet. Just like their days in Winterfell. They were safe in their own little world.

“Can we stay in bed all day?” He asked hopefully, kissing down her neck.

“I wish, but I have some last-minute wedding arrangements to make.”

“Hasn’t Lady Stark finished planning already?” He grumbled between kisses.

“Her wedding is planned. It’s our wedding that needs a few more details hammered out. You’re more than welcome to help me plan, if you want,” She teasingly offered. He groaned.

“Seven hells, no. This is all you, wench. I’ll stay here and keep the bed warm for when you get back.” His grin was infectious, and she snuggled further into his warmth.

If she was a little late to meeting up with Sansa that morning, no one mentioned it.

 

* * *

 

It was tradition the night before a man’s wedding for him to go out with all his friends and get utterly and completely drunk. If it had been up to Jaime, he would’ve skipped the ritual. But unfortunately, sharing a wedding day with his alcohol loving brother meant that all their celebrations were mandatory and shared, whether he liked it or not.

Tyrion, Bronn, Pod, Gendry, Davos, Jon, Grey Worm, Samwell and a bunch of other lords and soldiers had gathered at a Flea Bottom tavern. It was a dingy, sticky and weird smelling little place that several kings and many lords had no business setting foot in, but Tyrion had insisted. Jaime decided not to ask too many questions about why he’d chosen this particular place.

“First drinks are on the grooms!” Yelled Bronn. The others all cheered, and Jaime felt the desire to run. Tyrion must have sensed it, because he grabbed his arm and dragged him, as much as he could drag him, to the counter to order as many jugs of ale and wine as the bartender would let them.

“Jaime, you only get married once,” Jaime looked at him, eyebrow raised. “Theoretically. So, can you at least pretend to be happy?”

“I am happy. Tomorrow, I will be very happy. But getting drunk with a group of your friends doesn’t make me particularly happy.”

“They’re your friends too,” Tyrion replied. His eyes were soft, and kind and Jaime felt too vulnerable. His brother had a way of seeing the truth of a person. Jaime especially.

Maybe a drink or two wouldn’t be too bad, just to help calm his nerves…

“If this is terrible, I’m leaving early and leaving you here with these degenerates,” Jaime told him. “You can drink yourself into oblivion, but I’m not going to. I’d like to arrive tomorrow at the sept in a respectable condition.”

“You’re no fun,” Tyrion grumbled good naturedly. Jaime shook his head, amused. How he and Tyrion were brothers was a source of confusion to them both. They were such opposites, but they loved each other anyway.

They carried the many drinks to the tables the other men had acquired and assembled into one long uneven surface that accommodated their large ranks. Jaime had never seen cups be filled and drained so quickly before.

“To being chained to a woman for the rest of your days!” Bronn cheered, raising his cup.

“To being happily married, for many years to come,” Ser Davos corrected gruffly.

The gathered men descended into arguments on marriage as Tyrion and Jaime shared a look. It was going to be an interesting night.

 

* * *

 

Like the men, the women had a tradition the night before a wedding of packing themselves into the bride’s chambers, for the older ladies to share their wisdom and the younger women to nervously listen. In Brienne and Sansa’s case, neither had mothers. In fact, they didn’t have any older women to look to for advice. Sansa’s rooms were filled with young women, most of whom were unmarried. Arya, Daenerys, Yara, Gilly, Roslin, Pod’s Lady Eleyna Westerling and a small group of other Northern ladies joined them. The few married ladies had been married only a few years at most.

Sansa led the group, discussing what everyone would be wearing to the wedding, what everyone wanted in their weddings and in their husbands. Brienne was pleased that when it was Eleyna’s turn to answer, her answer was to describe every aspect of Pod that she could, without directly naming him. Her blush when she met Brienne’s eyes was tell-tale enough. She seemed a sweet, pretty girl, but not too meek. Brienne was happy for them.

The ladies took to weaving flower crowns for themselves and the brides out of red roses. Daenerys shared her stories of travelling the world, spurred on by Arya, who like Sansa, had warmed to the Dragon Queen, now that they had talked through their differences. They might never be best friends, but the hostility had dissipated and Brienne was glad. She didn't want another war. 

Gilly shared her stories of living beyond the wall. Brienne hadn’t had the pleasure of speaking to the Wildling woman much, but she liked her. She was honest and straightforward. She was also ready to give birth at any moment. The old adage of a pregnant woman glowing was accurate. She looked content as her hand rested over her enormous stomach. Brienne noticed several ladies looking on with envy, Daenerys and Sansa included.

Mostly, Brienne sat and watched, while the other ladies talked and laughed. She was too lost in her own thoughts. Tomorrow, she would be Lady Lannister. She felt dizzy with the thought. Jaime had said yes. And he hadn’t backed out. They were actually getting married.

Her breathing had picked up and she didn’t realise she was hyperventilating until Sansa was at her side, asking her if she was feeling alright.

That was the last thing she remembered before she hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

The men had been drinking for hours. Jaime didn’t know the time, but he knew dawn was closer than the dusk that had heralded the beginning of their celebrations.

At some point, the Wildlings had joined their group, adding an extra layer of boisterousness they had previously lacked, despite Bronn's best efforts. By that point though, even the indomitable and completely sober Grey Worm had begun to loosen up and so they all accepted the additions with glee. All except Jaime.

Tormund was unmistakable, with his height and flaming red hair. Even if Jaime had wanted to ignore him, he couldn’t have. His booming laugh almost shook the entire tavern as he regaled the men with increasingly unbelievable stories of his life. If Jaime thought the giant story was crazy, the stories Tormund told when blind drunk were another level.

Jaime sat aside and drank in silence. He’d had a lot to drink. His cup was mysteriously never empty, so he wasn’t sure if he'd had 2 cups or 20. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was lost in thought, staring off into space, thinking about what Brienne might be doing that moment, before a huge hand clamped down on his shoulder, scaring him. His wine splashed onto the table. Tormund gave a laugh as he sat beside him.

“Hello, lion knight,” Tormund began. Jaime looked for his brother to save him in the rowdy crowd, but unlike Tormund, he was somewhat difficult to find.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He was grinning and Jaime wanted to slap it off his face. But he calmed himself. Brienne had chosen him. There was no need for jealousy. It didn’t mean he had to like the man though.

“I wasn’t frightened. I was only a little surprised.” He knew he sounded defensive, but he didn’t care.

“I scare people all the time. Especially in the South. You kneelers seem softer than us freefolk.”

Jaime didn't bother to reply.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. The ser lady knight is big and strong. A nice lady too.” He was slurring and swaying slightly.

Jaime nodded. The world swirled around him. Maybe it was him who was swaying. Or maybe they both were.

“I’m happy she and you aren’t fighting anymore and are going to be married. We freefolk don't get married, so I’m glad she has you. I could not give her that, or the castle or knighthood. I’m happy for you.” Tormund carried on, seemingly unconcerned with Jaime's lack of participation in the conversation.

Jaime looked at him through his hazy eyes to see nothing but sincerity. He had been about to show off all that he could give Brienne that Tormund couldn’t, but it meant nothing. At the end of the day, Brienne had been content, if not somewhat happy, as an outcast, riding around the kingdoms to protect innocent lives. The Wildlings would've accepted her. Even appreciated her for her strength.

But luckily, he had found her first and given her a purpose and home in Westeros.

“Thank you. I hope you find a nice woman, one day,” Jaime found himself saying. It felt like his mouth had run away without consulting his brain, but he was just drunk enough to let it happen.

“I hope so too. They always say there’s plenty of wolves in the woods,” He laughed.

“Brienne is the best though. She’s so kind and tall and her eyes are so blue,” Jaime sighed.

“Aye, she is a beauty. Does she have any sisters?”

“No. She’s unique,” At Tormund’s confused face, he clarified, “A one of a kind. The only person like her.”

“Damn,” Tormund shrugged. He took a sip from a regular sized cup, that in his hands seemed freakishly small.

“Sorry,” Jaime slurred.

“She chose you, pretty lion man. You’re lucky. Just don’t hurt her. I promised I would kill you if you did. And I’d rather not have to. I don’t think the crow would like it much.” He gestured at Jon, who was laughing with Gendry and Grey Worm.  

Jaime figured he should be angry that he was being threatened, but somehow, he knew Tormund meant it in the nicest way possible. He was an honest man. The Wildlings didn’t seem to deal in intrigue the way the Westerosi did. In a way, Jaime envied them. Life would be much simpler if everyone just said what they meant. It’s part of why he loved Brienne so much. She spoke her mind and did the right thing, no matter the consequences.

“I’d rather you didn’t kill me either, big man,” He laughed.

Tormund’s hand found its way to Jaime's shoulder again, but this time, Jaime found it comforting. Brienne deserved all the respect in the world and Tormund valued her. He must be a good man.

They sat together, laughing and drinking, swapping stories of the fight against the dead, until a shout interrupted and silenced the tavern.

“Kingslayer,” A man spat. The word sounded like a vicious slur. It took Jaime by surprise. No one had said it with so much hatred for months. It was like a bucket of freezing water, chilling and sobering him in seconds.

Brienne had told him he was being paranoid. But he’d known it was just a matter of time before someone recognised him and decided they wanted the glory of slaughtering the Kingslayer, Queenslayer and Kinslayer. Apparently, time was up.

Jaime looked at the man. He was older than Jaime had expected. About the 5 years older than him. He looked to be a soldier and when Jaime looked closer, he saw the man wore a stag on his collar. A Baratheon bannerman. But which Baratheon?

“Yes?” Jaime answered. He didn’t have his sword on him. His hand clenched uselessly at his side.

“You’re an oath breaker, father of bastards and now you’re getting married, while better men rot in the ground? Fuck you.”

Jaime surmised this man must be a Robert loyalist.

“How dare you?!” Came a roar from Jaime’s left. Tormund had stood and was squaring off with the man half his size. Instead of backing down, like a sane, sober man would do, this man approached the Wildling, hand clenched on the hilt of his sword.

“Stop it, everyone just calm down!” Tyrion yelled, standing on a table in the corner.

“Shut it, dwarf kinslayer. Whoremonger. We all know you’re only marrying Lady Sansa for the crown because you couldn’t get the Dragon Queen’s pussy,” The idiot continued. Jon stood and drew Longclaw.

“Don’t you speak about my wife or cousin like that,” Jon growled.

The man’s friends stood behind him, all drawing their weapons.

Jaime and Tyrion shared a look as the rest of their friends drew their swords and stood with Tormund and Jon. The tavern had emptied, and silence surrounded the two sides.

“Men, stand down!” Gendry commanded. The Baratheon men looked and him and scoffed.

“Why should we listen to you, Bastard King?” One of them jeered.

Gendry stood tall, his hammer in his hands. Jaime was impressed. He looked every inch a commander and warrior.

“Because I am King Gendry Baratheon, King of the Stormlands and son of King Robert Baratheon. As my bannermen, I order you to stand down and to speak to your monarchs with the respect they are due!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed the chapter count now no longer has a ?  
> I have finished writing. Now it's just some edits and this behemoth is done. I can't believe it. What started out a little 4-5 chapter idea became this beast. But I'm also proud. I'm usually the one who leaves their WIP's unfinished for eternity. My hard drives are a cemetery of ideas that will never live again. But not this time.  
> Thank you to everyone who has/is reading, spurring me on. I adore you all. I appreciate all comments and kudos and every view. Thank you.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne wakes up after passing out at her hens night. What's wrong with her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little trigger warning: Sansa mentions abortion and miscarriage, as well as an abusive relationship (Ramsey). It's not in detail, in fact it's only a few sentences, but just in case, please be aware. I've put it between *, so if you want to skip it, you can.

Brienne came around to see Daenerys, Sansa, Gilly and Samwell all surrounding her. The room was quiet, telling her that the other ladies had left. How Samwell had come to be there, she didn’t know. She wondered how long she’d been unconscious for.

“She’ll be fine. It’s perfectly normal to be stressed the night before your wedding. My cousin passed out at the sept. It was a bit of a panic to get him to wake up and actually perform the ceremony after that,” Samwell was saying.

“I’m fine,” Brienne interrupted him. All four heads turned to her. They each wore expressions of concern, in various levels. She immediately felt guilty for making people worry over her.

“How do you feel?” Sansa asked, leaning over her. Brienne realised she was on Sansa’s bed. The ladies must have somehow got her up onto the bed after she passed out. It must have taken a few of them to lift her. Another reason to feel guilty. 

“I’m fine, truly.”

Sansa and Daenerys didn’t look that convinced.

“Just in case, Ser Brienne, perhaps I should check you over, just to be sure?” Samwell asked. His kind face was genuinely concerned.

“How did you get here?” She asked, still lightheaded.

“Lady Gilly went to fetch him, after you fainted,” Daenerys said.

“Good thing too, since the Jon and Jaime were almost…” Gilly nudged him, and he abruptly stopped. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“If it will make you all feel better, then yes. You can check if I’m alright, but I can guarantee you that I’m fine,” She assured them. She hated being fussed over. She wasn’t an invalid or a child.

“Let Lord Tarly check you and let him decide if you are well.” Daenerys stood and motioned to the others to leave the room. Gilly followed her, but Sansa looked conflicted.

“Would you like me to stay with you, Ser Brienne?” She asked.

“Yes, please.” She tried not to let any of her worry show but having Sansa with her would reassure her. To be honest, she was panicking. She had no idea why she was feeling so ill lately. Her mind immediately went to the worst possible scenarios. She needed Sansa’s pragmatic Northern attitude to keep her calm.

And she needed a friend. 

“Look after yourself, Ser Brienne. Feel better soon.” Daenerys gave her a reassuring smile as she shut the door behind them.

“Alright, I’ll make this as quick as I can. Can you tell me, have you been feeling increasingly tired recently? Any other symptoms of illness?” He moved to her side and began to take her temperature. He seemed to bumble around, even when walking with purpose. It was easy to forget that he had survived the long night. He had fought the dead and lived. He wasn’t as he appeared. 

He and Jon seemed an unlikely friendship, but they were firm friends, nonetheless. She looked at Sansa and realised that from the outside, their friendship seemed just as unlikely. But she loved Sansa and would protect her with her life. She knew the men were the same.

“I’ve just been a little bit stressed, with the wedding and everything,” She admitted.

“You’ve looked a little bit run down recently,” Sansa added. She had moved to sit beside Brienne on her massive bed. Brienne hadn’t realised that her exhaustion and stress had been visible to everyone else. She had tried so hard to carry on as normal, not bothering anyone with her illness.

“Have you been sleeping?”

“I’ve been oversleeping. And then I wake up feeling tired still,” She admitted. She wanted to deny feeling sick, but she couldn’t hide it anymore. She had hoped it would disappear on its own, but it hadn’t. It had only gotten worse. If there was something seriously wrong, she needed to know. She hated feeling vulnerable and in less than perfect health.

“And you’ve been staying in shape?” He inquired.

“Not as much as usual. I haven’t had too much opportunity to train since I got to the capital.” She blushed. The only exercise she’d had since being in the capital was with Jaime. She had gained a little weight, but she hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.

“And have you been feeling nauseated at all?” The questions were coming faster now. Samwell seemed to have an idea what was wrong. His kind eyes were looking at her knowingly. It scared her.

“Only a little bit. Mostly in the mornings. I wake up, like I’ve been having a nightmare. I feel disoriented and sick.”

“Mmhmm…” Samwell hummed. He was checking her pulse now.

“Ser Brienne, can I ask..?” His face had gone a little pink.

“You may ask whatever you need. What’s wrong?” Brienne was now incredibly worried. She felt her pulse thudding faster and faster and knew that Samwell would be able to feel it too.

“When was the last time you had your monthly bleeding?” He asked. He wasn’t meeting her eyes now. She felt her own cheeks warm up until she was sure she was as red as he was.

“Um…” She cast her mind back. She’d been too busy to notice. She’d never been entirely regular, but it had been a while. Too long. Brienne didn’t know if she wanted to believe what he was implying or not.

“Maybe about two months?” She guessed. Samwell gave her a broad smile. Sansa just looked shocked.

“Ser Brienne, I believe you may be the first knight to give birth. In about 7 months.”

Samwell was smiling happily. Brienne’s heart was sinking.

It must have been the night she proposed. They had been so careful otherwise. One night of neglectfulness and now everything was turned on its head.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Not entirely,” He admitted, “But I saw how Gilly looked and felt at the beginning of her pregnancy. If what you say is true, I am fairly confident in saying that you are pregnant.”

The world span around her and she fought the urge to retch. She needed to tell Jaime, but she wouldn’t see him again until the wedding ceremony. What was she going to do?

She realised she was breathing too fast again, when both Sansa and Samwell looked at her concerned. Sansa placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Breathe, Brienne,” She said soothingly.

Brienne struggled to correct her rapid heartbeat, breathing in and out slowly. Once she was breathing normally again, Samwell gave her a tentative smile.

“Should I leave you two alone now? Are you going to be alright?”

Sansa looked to Brienne, who gave a small nod. There was nothing he could do to help. She would have to deal with this on her own.

“Yes, thank you, Lord Samwell.” Sansa gave him a grateful smile as he left.

“How are you feeling?” Sansa asked, once the door clicked behind him.

“I’m fine. I’m embarrassed, but other than that, I feel fine. I’m very sorry about ruining the party.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Brienne. But I meant, how do you feel about the baby?” Sansa took her hand and held it.

Brienne thought about it for a moment. It still seemed so unreal. Her, pregnant? Never had she thought, in her wildest dreams, that she would ever have children. Not truly. Now it seemed likely, she would have to get used to the idea, and fast.

“I don’t know. I never imagined… And Jaime, how is he going to react? He doesn’t want any more children. I’m not even entirely sure I do either.” After the way Jaime had reacted to the very idea of children, telling him she might be pregnant seemed like an insurmountable task. And how would she be a mother? She was a knight, not a mother.

She was panicking again.

“It’ll be alright, Brienne. I promise.” She squeezed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

“What do I do?” Brienne asked. She didn’t expect an answer, but Sansa answered her anyway.

*

“There are ways to… avert the birth, if you really want. Brews and other things.” Brienne looked at her in shock. She knew there were brews to prevent pregnancy. But brews to remove a child already conceived? Brienne had never heard of such a thing.

“I was pregnant, once. Ramsey… I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear his child. I wouldn’t allow another like Ramsey to be born into the world. I asked a maid, one of the Winterfell girls who had survived the Bolton take over. Survived, but not unscathed. She said she knew an old remedy.” Sansa was staring off into the past. She was impassive, but Brienne could sense the hurt beneath.

“I didn’t need to take it though. The day after I realised, he beat me. And the next day, I bled, more than I’d ever bled before. I cried. Despite the fact I didn’t want it, it was still my child.” She looked at Brienne with sad, old eyes. But there were no tears. It clearly was a wound that had scabbed over, but not fully healed. Maybe it never would. 

*

“Do you want children?” Brienne wasn’t sure if it was her place to ask, but with just the two of them, it seemed like they could share anything.

“I do. I always have. While Arya was busy playing with the boys, I was busy dreaming of my charming prince and beautiful children. Arya always laughed that I wanted to be the girls in the songs, waiting for a knight to ride along and save me. I was naïve then.” She shook her head and gave a sad huff of a laugh.

“I used to dream of a handsome knight too,” Brienne confessed, “But the other girls used to laugh that no knight would want to save a girl bigger than him. So, I started dreaming of being the knight.”

“And then you saved me. Just like the knights in the songs.” Sansa smiled at her, “It wasn’t exactly like I imagined, but I’m glad to have you on my side, Brienne. There’s no one else I’d rather have guarding my back.”

Brienne shrugged off the praise, but it warmed her just the same. Sansa didn’t need anyone to save her. She was like her mother, strong and independent.

“I didn’t save you. You saved yourself. I am just here to protect you now.” Though there were many things she couldn’t protect her from, like everything she’d already been through. It was her greatest regret that she couldn’t get to Sansa first and prevent all the hurt. If only she could’ve done something differently.

“What will you and Ser Jaime do after the wedding?” Brienne heard the hesitation in saying Jaime’s name. Sansa, like most people, still didn’t fully trust Jaime. She understood it, but it hurt, to hear people talk about her soon-to-be husband like he was an enemy, even now.

“We’ll be returning to Winterfell, with you.” She looked at Sansa, who just smiled at her enigmatically.

Without a word, Sansa left the bed and went to her closet. She pulled out a very familiar looking package and two letters. She returned to the bed and placed the items next to Brienne, who was getting more confused by the moment.

“I gave these to you to give to Jon and Daenerys. Now I’m giving them back. Open the package first.”

Brienne took the package and began unwrapping it carefully, trying not to rip the plain paper that covered it. She revealed the soft fabric underneath. It was blue and red, and fur lined. She opened the cloak to show the pattern that adorned the back. It was her house sigil, with the suns and moons. But in the quarters with the moons were 4 howling wolves and in the quarters with the suns, there were swords. At closer inspection, the swords had golden lion pommels, with red eyes. The detail was incredible.

She was speechless.

“Do you like it?” Sansa asked.

“I love it. Sansa, this is the most beautiful cloak I’ve ever seen.” It was luxurious. She’d never had such a beautiful piece of clothing. Not including her armour, of course. 

“You deserved a nice wedding cloak. And while I know you are a Southerner, and Tarth is home, I wanted to put a little bit of Stark on there.” Sansa was smiling at her, clearly glad Brienne admired her handiwork.

“But why did you make me a wedding cloak?” She couldn’t help running her hands over the soft fur and silk.

“Because we all knew it was just a matter of time. I had thought that you’d be married in Winterfell...” She trailed off, unsure if she should say more, but she rallied herself and continued, “But I’m glad to be here with you, sharing our wedding day. I worry the cloak might be a bit warm, with the fur, for a King’s Landing spring wedding, rather than the Winterfell winter wedding I imagined it for, but you won’t be wearing it long.”

“It’s beautiful, Sansa. Truly. I can’t thank you enough.” She blinked, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Do you want to read the letters?”

“Aren’t they for King Jon and Queen Daenerys?”

“They were, but I got here in time, so they don’t need them.”

Confused at Sansa’s meaning, Brienne took the letters in her hands. They were sealed with the Stark sigil in wax. She opened the one to Jon first.

She read in silence. She could feel Sansa’s eyes on her as she read.

“You released me from my oath to you?” She asked, slightly hurt. Nothing should get in the way of her oath to protect the Stark girls. She had promised Lady Catelyn. Lady Catelyn died knowing that Brienne would uphold her word.

“Brienne, you will always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. That has not changed.” She spoke determinedly, to reassure Brienne that she still valued, “But I’m giving you the choice. Especially now.” She looked down at Brienne’s stomach, where Brienne’s hand had absentmindedly come to rest, before looking back up to meet her eyes. “You need to be there for your family. I won’t let the vow you made to protect me to interfere with that. Besides, I’ll be married from tomorrow and Arya… Well, Arya will be going to Storm’s End with King Gendry.” Sansa didn’t look too pleased by that, but Brienne knew that Arya had a sheer force of will that no one could stop. If Storm’s End was where she wanted to go, go to Storm’s End she would.

“I thank you, Queen Sansa,” She began. Sansa shook her head to stop her.

“Read the next letter,” She urged. Brienne opened the second letter, the one to Daenerys.

Brienne couldn’t quite believe her eyes. Sansa was asking for Daenerys to let Brienne be a guard in the king or queensguard, or her permission for Brienne to seek employment wherever she chose, with Daenerys’ endorsement.

She looked back up at Sansa, lost for words. She couldn’t believe it.

“I want you to do whatever you want. Obviously, now that each kingdom is separate, the decision isn’t just Daenerys’ anymore, but with both my and their recommendation, you can serve anywhere in the realm you wish. You’re a well-known knight now and any house would be glad to have you guarding them.”

Brienne wasn’t so sure of that. Not everyone accepted a female knight, especially one married to an apparently dishonourable man like the Kingslayer. But she knew that risk when she decided to pursue her relationship with Jaime. She hadn’t chosen to fall in love with him, but she did make the choice to let him into her bed and not deny the way she felt.

“Thank you, Sansa. Jaime and I will discuss it. Hopefully somewhere will accept us both… Equally.”

She saw the pain that flashed on Sansa’s face, because she knew, as well as Brienne, that such a prospect was highly unlikely.

“It’s getting late. We should retire. It wouldn’t do for the brides to be tired at their wedding,” Sansa said. Brienne nodded and stood. She paused, dizzy.

“Do you need a hand getting to your room?”

“No, I’m feeling fine now.” She wasn’t entirely sure she was, and she suspected she wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep that night, but she knew that she needed the time alone to think.

 

* * *

 

The next morning came before any of the wedding party were ready for it. Jaime and Tyrion had stumbled back to their rooms in the early hours.

Jaime had been tempted to sneak into Brienne’s room, but he wasn’t quite drunk enough to think that waking his bride a few hours before the ceremony was a good idea. Instead, for the first time in weeks, he spent the night alone. It was lonely and he hated it. Especially with all the thoughts invading his mind, thanks to the old man in the tavern. They were lucky that Gendry had stood up and taken charge, averting a fight. Otherwise, he might have done something he regretted. Luckily, when he awoke, he felt better than he should, all things considered. The adrenaline began pumping as he realised that in just a few hours, he would be pledging his life to Brienne, in front of Gods and men. He was excited and nervous as he begun dressing.

Tyrion wasn’t that much worse for wear than his brother. He’d had far too much to drink, but he also had enough experience in being incredibly drunk to drink plenty of water before retiring. He also dragged Jaime past the kitchens to steal some bread and cheese to eat before bed, to soak up whatever alcohol still sat in his stomach. He woke up feeling only mildly hungover, which for a regular man, would have been incredibly hungover. He hopped out of bed early, to give himself plenty of time to bathe and dress and make himself look as presentable as possible. He knew that no matter what he did, he would look unworthy next to his bride. But there was no need to disgrace himself more than necessary. He still couldn’t quite believe that Sansa had decided to marry him, but he knew it was true. He smiled to himself as he got ready.

Brienne sat up most of the night dreading the next day. Not that she dreaded marrying Jaime. Not at all. But she dreaded having to tell him that she was very likely with child. Now Samwell had said it, she knew it made sense. She’d just not wanted to see the signs. She hadn’t spent all that much time around pregnant women, but she knew the symptoms. When she finally did fall asleep, her dreams involved tiny blond babies and a smiling Jaime. She awoke, feeling disoriented and alone, with no Jaime beside her. When her confusion wore off, nerves wracked her body and she rushed to the grab the chamber pot. As if she needed more proof that she was both incredibly nervous and almost definitely pregnant. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the panic and nausea, before preparing for the day.

Of the four betrothed, Sansa was the only one who got any measure of decent sleep. She had been married before. And unlike her first two marriages, she was fully cognizant of what it meant and this time, it was her choice. She wasn’t the nervous young girl she was at her first wedding, trembling and afraid. Nor was she the young woman she was at her second wedding, alone and unprotected. This time, she was a woman, strong, independent. A queen. She never thought she would be a queen. She’d given up those hopes when Joffrey proved what it meant to be a king. But now, she was queen, whether she married or not. But she would marry. She would marry the sweetest, smartest, wittiest man she knew. She barely slept, but when she did, it was soundly and with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wedding is coming! I'll be putting it up in a few days. Then the last chapter early next week. 
> 
> I still can't believe I've finished this thing.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding has arrived. A few surprises in store...

The Sept of Baelor would never again be what it had been before Cersei had blown the whole thing to bits. But the newly rebuilt Sept was still one of the grandest buildings the residents of King’s Landing would ever hope to see. It was large enough to fit all the guests for the Lannister-Stark-Tarth weddings, with room to spare. Not to say that there weren’t a lot of guests present for the marriages, because there were. Much like Jon and Daenerys’s wedding, the crowd was wide and varied. All their friends were there, from across seas and vast amounts of land.

Sansa and Tyrion had elected to be married first. Brienne and Jaime sat separately in the back of the Sept, out of the way. Brienne would change after the first ceremony, as apparently it was bad luck for Jaime to see her in her wedding outfit before she walked down the aisle.

Tyrion stood beside the new, young septon. Tyrion was shuffling nervously as the septon read the verses, awaiting the bride’s entrance. Jaime smiled to see his usually calm and logical brother so affected by something. Jaime had always been the more emotional of the two. He’d been told it was a weakness. Lately though, he wasn’t so sure that it was.

When Sansa finally entered, on the arm of King Jon, Tyrion went still, almost frozen on the spot, as she made her way towards him. He looked like he’d been punched, staring at her slack jawed. It would’ve been funny if it hadn’t knocked the wind out of Jaime too. His brother was in love. And Jaime knew exactly how he felt.

Sansa seemed to float, in her exquisite flowing blue dress. It was decorated with wolves, as everyone had expected, but the lack of feminine flowers and other intricate embroidery was a surprise. The colour was eerily reminiscent of the blue of the White Walker’s eyes. But unlike the undead, Sansa was smiling and warm was she walked towards Tyrion.

Jon gave her to Tyrion with another one of his rare smiles and a handshake. Tyrion looked close to tears.

Her silver-grey Stark cloak fluttered as she knelt beside him. She had learnt from their first wedding, how she’d stood awkwardly tall beside him, even as a young girl who wasn’t yet fully grown. Now they met eye to eye, face to face. Equals. The septon towered over them, but they only had eyes for each other.

The ceremony was both longer and shorter than Jaime ever remembered a wedding being before, but it was probably a by-product of his nerves. As much as Jaime tried to watch and be happy and present for his brother, the thought that it was his turn in only minutes distracted him.

He could hardly wait.

 

* * *

 

By the time the first ceremony was over, Brienne was shaking. They were to break for a short time before regathering for the second wedding. She slipped out the back door, into an antechamber, where her wedding clothes and new cloak hung, ready for her.

Sansa slipped in behind her a minute later, helping her into her outfit. Sansa was glowing, clearly happy. Brienne couldn’t help but wish that her mother was there to see her. She wasn’t sure that Lady Catelyn would be thrilled in her daughter’s choice of husband, but no one, not even the Lannister’s worst enemy, could deny that Sansa was alight with joy.

Brienne didn’t regret taking the vow to protect her and Arya for a moment. She was just glad she was here to see them both safe and happy. And selfishly, it had led Brienne here too.

Brienne jumped when a knock came at the door, too on edge and filled with adrenaline, like she was preparing for a fight. But she instantly relaxed when she saw the smiling face of her father.

“Ready, sunbeam?” He asked. She could only nod. She took his arm and Sansa gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before making her way back into the main chamber to watch.

Brienne walked into the Sept, looking around at the familiar faces, before they fell on Jaime. He looked so regal and stood tall in his red and gold, but she could see his nerves as he stood on the altar. When his eyes met hers, he smiled. A real, true smile, that crinkled his eyes, set off his dimples and made his eyes sparkle. If Brienne hadn’t already been in love, she would have fallen in that moment.

She remembered seeing Jaime for the first time after they’d arrived in King’s Landing. He’d been washed and groomed, and he’d been unbearably gorgeous. It had been like staring into the sun. She almost hadn’t believed he was the same man she’d spent all those months with. Until he’d opened his mouth and there he'd been. Her Jaime, the snarky, arrogant, utterly infuriating man she’d come to know and respect. And even if she hadn’t known it at the time, the man she’d fallen in love with.

Now, he was gorgeous, but it no longer surprised her. She knew him, better than she knew anyone. She’d loved him, before she really knew him. But knowing him, really _knowing_ him, the good and bad, made her love real and solid. And he knew her better than anyone else too.

She realised she trusted him now, completely and unconditionally.

 

* * *

 

Jaime turned from the septon, to see Brienne walking towards him, on the arm of her father. All his nerves dissolved. She wore a dress, but it had been cut to resemble armour, adorned with leather and metal and her sword belt with Oathkeeper proudly displayed. It made his heart flutter. They hadn’t discussed it, but it was so like Brienne to wear a sword to her own wedding, that it didn’t surprise him at all.

His own blade, it’s twin, no longer named Widow’s Wail, but Maiden’s Honour, hung on his hip.

Despite the long, flowing skirt, the dress was entirely her style. But unlike her actual armour, that he’d had made to her specifications as best he could, her dress was cut to make her look like a lady. It accentuated her long legs, her broad shoulders and hips and her modest breasts. Jaime had to blink to make sure he was seeing her correctly. She looked like a warrior goddess and Jaime couldn’t breathe.

Lord Selwyn presented her to him, and he bowed to him.

“Thank you, Lord Selwyn.” He nodded at his soon to be father.

“You’re welcome, son,” Lord Selwyn replied with a smile and a nod back. Jaime fought to keep his eyes from welling up. 

The septon called for attention and Jaime turned from Brienne reluctantly. He could’ve stared at her all day and never gotten bored of the view, but they had a wedding to get through first, then she was his to stare at for the rest of his life. He was looking forward to every second.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," The septon began. Brienne reached for her cloak, beginning to untie the ribbons that held it upon her shoulders, but Jaime took her hand and stilled it.

“You require no protection, Ser Brienne, knight of the eight kingdoms. Would you rather cloak me?”

 

* * *

 

Brienne didn’t know what to do.

“Jaime, are you sure? I don’t mind,” She whispered. She was conscious of all the eyes on them, as they hesitated. Jaime didn’t look fazed by it in the least.

“I do. You are no meek maid, in need of a protector. You _are_ the protector.”

It seemed a silly tradition, really, that either of the knights should pledge to be protected by the other. They’d protected each other so many times before, but it was an equal score. Not that they were keeping count exactly. She didn’t feel indebted to him and she knew he felt the same. 

“Neither of us will exchange cloaks,” She told the septon decisively. She looked to Jaime who gave her a grin as wide as she’d ever seen. It made her smile back. She knew she’d made the right decision.

The septon was clearly taken aback, but to his credit, he simply nodded and moved on, without causing a fuss.  

"My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

Brienne felt herself blushing. Jaime was looking at her as if she was beautiful. Never before, not even when he came to her rooms, or she to his, did she feel what she felt in that moment. She could almost feel as beautiful as he believed her to be. She could see it in his eyes. She could see it reflecting on her. She felt light and free. It was like she was seeing herself through his eyes. 

He took both her hands in his one hand, so tenderly. The septon began to wrap their hands in golden ribbons. Jaime leant into her space farther.

“You’ve taught me what love really is. What it is to be loved without expectation. Without shame,” He whispered. Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice and the intensity of his eyes.  

“You have too... I didn’t ask for this. For us. I never expected to find anyone. But I did. In probably the most unlikely place imaginable. I love you,” She replied. He didn’t get a chance to respond, as the septon began speaking again.

 

* * *

 

"Let it be known that Brienne of House Tarth and Jaime of House Lannister are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

Jaime looked at Brienne grinning at him as they had their hands tied together. Her hands were shaking in his, but they were warm and strong. He gave them a comforting squeeze and she answered with one of her own.

Jaime’d had his hands tied for the first half of their relationship, being dragged around by her. Until he’d lost one. Unlike then, now having his hand tied felt like freedom and happiness, not imprisonment.

The septon untied their hands again, but they kept them clasped between them, reluctant to part. Brienne was smiling, wider than she’d ever smiled at him before. Even when he’d knighted her. He knew his smile matched hers.

He’d never been happier in all his life.

"Look upon each other and say the words."

Jaime led, but Brienne’s shaking voice joined his as they said the words together.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger."

"I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.” He’d never meant anything he’d ever said as much as he meant those words in that moment.

 

* * *

 

“I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days." She recited the lines in a daze. Her hands tingled in his grasp, as they were bound together, literally and metaphorically.  

He was looking into her eyes. Both pairs of eyes were blurred with tears, but they were tears of joy, she knew. Her body felt too full of emotion. She felt the fluttering in her lower half, that she knew was their child and her heart seemed to expand. She had everything she’d ever dreamt of. It felt surreal and divine.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” He said, leaning forward and kissing her. She was never one for public displays of affection. She’d always resented the sight of couples flaunting their love. Besides, it was unseemly.

But in this case, she didn’t care who was watching. In the sight of the Gods and men, she and Jaime proclaimed their love with a kiss. He pulled away quickly, after the chaste peck, but she didn’t mind. They had years and years to kiss, dance, hold hands and argue. She looked forward to every moment.

 

* * *

 

The feast was in the Keep this time, since there was only about a third of the guests of the Targaryen wedding. Jaime and Brienne and Tyrion and Sansa led the way from the Sept to the Keep. All the guests followed, chattering and excited. The couples barely spoke, all too overwhelmed, as they made their way through the town streets.

Brienne knew she needed to pull Jaime aside and tell him about the baby, but she worried. If he took it badly, it would ruin their wedding night and she didn’t know if she could do that. But she also didn’t know how much longer she could keep the secret. It was heavy on her conscience.

They arrived at the Keep. Brienne had to admit that Sansa had done an amazing job of decorating and co-ordinating the entire wedding. The room was filled with candles, with Lannister, Tarth and Stark banners hung around the room. The tables were set with red tablecloths and flowers. So many flowers. It looked magical.

The four took their seats at the head table as the crowd shuffled in behind them.

As was tradition, Jaime and Tyrion stood to make their speeches.

“Ladies, gentlemen, everyone. Thank you for coming and celebrating this day with my brother and I, and our beautiful wives,” Tyrion began, raising his goblet and smiling at Sansa. She beamed back at him. Brienne turned to Jaime to see him likewise smiling at her. She blushed and felt the smile rise on her face, without her permission. She didn’t mind though. She was happy and she didn’t care who knew it.

“We are truly lucky, to have found love and comfort, in times of war and unrest. When we feared we might never find love at all.” Jaime’s eyes were soft and open, looking at her as if he genuinely couldn’t believe his luck.

“A maimed, dishonoured knight and a disfigured, deformed dwarf. And both bearing the curse of the Lannister name,” Tyrion continued.

“As the last Lannister’s, it’s been a big day for us, expanding the house,” Jaime added.

“But the Lannister name isn’t what it once was. So, with our wives’ permission, we are abandoning the Lannister name. From now on, I am King Tyrion Stark, and any and all children my Queen and I have, will be Stark’s, inheriting Winterfell and the North in their turn.”

“And I will be Ser Jaime Tarth,” Jaime glanced at Brienne, before quickly facing the room again.

She was in shock. They hadn’t even discussed the possibility that Jaime would take her name. In the Westeros hierarchy, the Lannister’s were far higher up than the Tarth’s. And a husband taking a wife’s name? Unheard of.

But, looking back on their conversation about their families, and knowing what she knew of the Lannister’s legacy, it made sense.

It still made her head spin though.

Sansa didn’t look shocked. Apparently only one Lannister had bothered to discuss that decision with their wife before the wedding. She looked to her father, who looked somewhat smug. Clearly, they had discussed it. She wanted to glare at them both, but the smile on her face was stubborn. 

“In that spirit, neither Jaime nor I will be taking the crown of the Westerlands.”

A murmur ran through the crowd at that. Tyrion waited until the whispers had subsided.

“Podrick Payne, can you please come forward?”

Pod stood from his table, where he was sitting beside his beloved Eleyna. He walked forward slowly. Brienne smiled as she met his eyes. She shrugged at him, because she was just as confused as he was.

“Podrick Payne, kneel,” Jaime commanded, “Brienne, would you like to do the honours?” He looked at her, like he did the night before the battle, full of warmth and she knew exactly what she needed to do.

She stood and walked around the head table to where Pod was kneeling. She drew her sword. The lion pummel felt more right in her hand than it had ever felt before. She was a lion now, if not in name, at least in feeling.

“Kneel, Podrick Payne. In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Ser Podrick Payne, a knight of the eight kingdoms.” She said each word with the weight and gravity they deserved. She’d been planning on knighting her squire before she left the capital, but the time hadn’t yet been right.

But this was right. She felt it. Jaime stood at her shoulder, the person who had charged Pod with squiring for her. And Tyrion stood beside Jaime, who had been Pod’s lord before Brienne. Jaime had knighted Brienne, and now she continued the chain to Podrick.

Her life hadn’t always been easy. In fact, it rarely had been. But today, she felt a peace and happiness she’d never even dreamt possible. She was loved and she loved.

Pod stood up, a new knight. His eyes shone in the flickering candlelight. Brienne couldn’t help herself and embraced him.

“Thank you, Ser,” He whispered to her, voice deep with emotion.

“You’ve earned it, Pod.” She wasn’t going to cry. Not here in front of a filled room of people. But when she pulled away and looked at his face, so different than the one she had known when they first met, yet with the same kindness and gentleness, she couldn’t stop the words, “I’m so proud of you.”

Pod’s smile was radiant, and he bowed to her, and Jaime, Tyrion and Sansa.

He moved as if to make his way back to his seat, but Jaime stopped him. Brienne watched, intrigued. She thought she knew where this was going, but she was just as surprised as everyone else in the room. Jaime hadn't even hinted at this beforehand. 

“Ser Podrick, the house of Payne has been a noble house for centuries. Friends, allies and sworn bannermen of the Westerlands and the Lannister house.” Brienne watched Jaime look around the room, before his gaze settled back on the young knight, standing frozen in front of him.

Tyrion smiled and proclaimed, “Ser Podrick, we name you heir to Casterly Rock and the kingdom of the Westerlands.”

Brienne watched the blood drain from Pod’s face. He looked completely terrified. Brienne heard Jaime’s rich, deep laugh from beside her.  

“Lor… King… Your Grace?” He asked, looking at Tyrion in askance.

“Yes?” Tyrion replied, casually. He wore a smirk as wide as his face. Brienne shook her head at his shenanigans. Trust the Lannister’s to surprise everyone with a coronation at their weddings.

“Isn’t there someone else more… Kingly? Who could take the crown?” Pod whispered to him, just loud enough to be heard by the wedding party, but not enough to be heard by the crowd behind him. Brienne suppressed the giggle that threatened to explode out of her. He looked so frightened. Even faced with the dead, he hadn’t looked half so afraid. She felt a flash of guilt at wanting to laugh, but she couldn't help it. The happiness had made her giddy. 

He was still so young, but even so, Brienne trusted him to be a fair ruler. He worked hard and cared about people. He’d cared about her when hardly anyone else had. He had plenty more growing up to do, but he would do so with a crown upon his head.

“Podrick, I couldn’t think of anyone more worthy of the title and the crown,” Tyrion smiled at him reassuringly at him, “Trust us, we’ve considered all the options.”

“Besides, we’ve already had this approved with Jon and Daenerys. We can’t take it back now,” Jaime added.

“I don’t know what to say," Pod stuttered. 

“Then don’t say anything. Just be a fair and just ruler.”

“Long live King Podrick Payne!” Sansa had stood and raised her goblet. The entire crowd stood and joined her. Pod looked completely overwhelmed, but managed to bow to the crowd, before he made his way back to his seat. His young lady Westerling was beaming at him, like he was the best thing she’d ever seen. Brienne hoped that they’d get married sooner rather than later. Maybe their children could grow up together.

“Now that the business portion of the evening is finished, it’s time…” Jaime yelled over the hubbub of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! My life got really busy. But here is the penultimate chapter and Pod gets everything he could ever want, because long live King Podrick.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding is over. What now for our beloved couple?

“It’s time to feast and to drink!” Jaime yelled over the crowd. They all cheered and set about enjoying themselves.

The four newlyweds collapsed into their chairs at the head table. Jaime was filled with adrenaline. He looked over at Brienne, who was looking shocked and confused. It made him bark out a laugh. She turned to him and she looked offended for a moment, before she too began to giggle. Tyrion and Sansa joined in after a moment.

It was cathartic. The tension of the day and, if Jaime was being honest, the last few years, melted away. Tyrion raised his cup and the others joined, clinking them together.

“What a day,” Sansa sighed as she leaned back in her seat.

“We can relax now. The hard parts are over. Now we get to celebrate,” Tyrion smiled at her, softly.

“You two are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Brienne asked, looking between the brothers.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just surprise you with everything. Most of the decisions were only made last night, and I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” Jaime apologised. He knew Brienne wasn’t a fan of surprises. Especially not huge, life altering ones. But when she met his eyes, he didn’t see anger or disappointment. He knew he hadn’t escaped totally guilt free, and they would have to talk about it, but she wasn’t demanding an annulment, so he knew she didn’t really mind.

“Just don’t do it again,” She smiled.

“What, crown your squire king and take your name? I’m pretty sure that’s a one-time thing.” He grinned at her and she playfully smacked his arm.

“You know what I mean.” The women shared an exasperated look, and Jaime met Tyrion’s eyes. The brothers knew how lucky they were. They didn’t need to say anything to know exactly how the other felt.

“Shall we eat and then dance?”

“Sounds perfect.”

 

* * *

 

The feast passed them all by in a blur. Brienne had never enjoyed social gatherings, for many reasons. But this one, she had to admit, was fun. She danced and ate and had everyone she cared about in one place for the first time ever. Her heart had never been fuller.

Especially when she thought about the new life that was growing inside her.

Before the wedding, she’d been scared - terrified, really - of the baby and Jaime’s reaction. But now, she knew what she wanted.

She just had to tell Jaime and hope that the love she knew he felt for her would help him accept the fact that she wanted this child. Their child.

They retired to their joint chambers late in the evening. They had made sure that everyone knew there was to be no bedding ceremony for either couple. It was unnecessary and they’d already broken tradition several times.

Jaime’d had a bit to drink, but Brienne hadn’t. She’d heard an old wives’ tale that drinking was unhealthy for pregnant women. She had no idea if it was true or not, but she wasn’t going to take any unnecessary risks.

“Hello, wife,” Jaime said as he wandered into the bedroom, from the other room, cheeky grin in place. He’d stripped down to his breeches and in the candlelight his skin glowed golden. A million lifetimes ago, Brienne had watched him hungrily, but furtively, as he’d entered the bath house and stripped. Now, she watched him openly. From _their_ bed. She was suddenly so glad they hadn’t waited until their wedding night. She couldn’t imagine the nerves she would suffer at the anticipation. Now, the anticipation settled into her belly a warm and comforting weight. The title ‘wife’ on his lips sent a tingle through her.

“Hello, husband,” She replied. His smile broadened, so she knew his new title thrilled him as hers did her. Even after everything, even getting married, it pleased her to know she had an effect on him. Maybe she’d never really believe it.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the conversation. She had decided she couldn’t wait a second longer. And he would probably notice her growing belly as soon as he joined her in the bed. Even though she knew that wasn’t true. He’d shared her bed the past few months and not noticed a thing.

But she couldn’t help but worry that every second, the bump became bigger. Even that morning, she’d worried she wouldn’t be able to fit into her wedding dress. Luckily, she insisted it have plenty of room to move and be comfortable. So, while it fit more snuggly than she’d wanted, it still fit. It was funny that until Samwell had told her, she hadn’t noticed the now incredibly obvious signs.

Denial was a strong impulse.

“Jaime, can I talk to you for a moment?” She began, as Jaime climbed into the bed beside her. He turned to look at her and sighed.

“Is this about me taking your name?” He asked wearily.

“No. But believe me, we will be coming back to that discussion later,” She promised. He hadn’t gotten away with making that decision without consulting her first, but it was surprisingly low on her list of priorities.

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked, taking her hand in his. The tension in the room had become stifling and it wasn’t a good tension, like might be expected on a wedding night.

“Jaime, I’m pregnant.” She decided to just blurt it out. She watched as his face ran through a million emotions in a moment, before settling on a shocked stare.

“You’re what?” He asked slowly. His voice was strangely emotionless.

“I didn’t mean to. You know we’ve been safe. But that night…” She rushed to reassure him, but he stopped her.

“Are you sure?”

“Fairly certain. Lord Tarly seemed to think so, anyway.” She was still watching him. He swallowed and seemed to be breathing slowly and carefully.

Slowly, ever so slowly, a tiny smile appeared on his face. His eyes met hers and she saw a sparkle in them she’d never seen before.

“Oh, Brienne.” He breathed. He pulled her into his arms and squashed her against his body, before abruptly pulling back and hovering his hand over her stomach. She nodded and his hand tentatively rested over the little bump. He let out a shaky breath.

“You’re happy?” She asked.

“I’m ecstatic!” He grinned at her, before continuing, “And terrified. But I’m happy.”

Her face must have shown her doubt, because he kissed her, slowly and deliberately, before he whispered, “Truly.” 

“I was worried, after…” She didn’t even know how to finish the thought. The names of his children stuck in her throat. As did Cersei’s.

“I am too. But I wasn’t allowed to be a father to Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. I loved them, more than I’d ever loved anything. But I wasn’t their father... I want to be a father,” He confessed quietly. She squeezed his hand, still resting over their child.

“What about the vow to take no wife and have no children?”

“You know that ship has already sailed,” He laughed and kissed her again.

When she pulled away, she felt the fear well up in her heart again.

“I’m scared too. Both of our mothers died in childbirth. What if we…” She gestured to herself and her belly. She was terrified to even name her truest, deepest fear. But she needed him to know and to be there for her, reassuring her.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You fought the dead and lived. You can do this. We can do this.” He looked down at her belly and back up. He looked determined and it warmed Brienne to see it.

“Now wife, how about we celebrate?” He grabbed his wine cup from the bedside table and took a sip.

“I don’t think I should be drinking.” He placed the cup back on the table and grinned at her again.

“Who said anything about drinking?” He kissed her with all the passion she knew he possessed, and she felt like she was flying and free falling all at once.

 

* * *

 

They lay in bed, holding each other. Jaime’s hand idly and so gently stroked Brienne’s stomach. It caused goosebumps all over her, but she just snuggled closer.

“So, wench, are you happy?”

“I am. Are you?” She asked, lifting her head from his chest to look into his eyes.

“I have never been happier in my life,” He sighed and pulled her closer.

“Well then. Let’s talk about your little surprise. When did you decide on taking my name and why didn’t you tell me?” She made her voice as hard as Oathkeeper. She felt his heart begin to race, but she was just teasing him. She didn’t mind, but she would never miss an opportunity to make fun of him. And she knew he'd do the same. 

Life was never going to be boring, she just knew it. 

 

* * *

 

Brienne had made up her mind. She was released from her vow to protect the Stark girls, and with Sansa now a married queen, Brienne wasn’t needed there. She would miss it, miss that chapter of her life, but it was time for her to move on. Her new chapter had begun, with her husband and their child.

But she wasn’t quite ready to go back to Tarth just yet. They would head to Tarth before she gave birth, as was the Evenstar tradition. But until then, she didn’t feel ready.

Luckily, she was presented with an opportunity. Her new liege lord knew that as a bastard, and a young one at that, he would meet resistance with his new subjects and bannermen. It had been demonstrated in wonderful clarity, as he barely talked down the man who had attacked Jaime the night before the wedding.

Along with Gendry, Arya, and Davos (who was gifted a modest castle in the Stormlands), Brienne and Jaime would travel with him to Storm’s End. With the help of some of the greatest family names’ support, along with his kind and generous nature, he might yet earn their respect and trust.

By travelling with her Baratheon lord and younger Stark ward, she felt that she was still honouring the vows she’d made to Lord Renly and Lady Catelyn. She might not need to wield her sword in their names, but she would happily gift them her time, advice and friendship. It wasn’t like either Gendry or Arya needed to be defended. In fact, she sparred with them both often, as did Jaime, and she suspected that with time, they would become a fierce warrior couple.

Jaime didn’t mind heading to the Stormlands. When he said he’d happily follow her anywhere, he’d apparently been entirely truthful. Though she looked often, she couldn’t find any regrets that he’d given up either the Lannister name or the kingdom that had been rightfully his. Looking back at the vain, egotistical man he had apparently been, she could barely believe the change. But she knew better. He’d played the part of a Lannister heir well, but it had never really felt like him.

Being close to Tarth was a bonus.

Her stomach grew alarmingly fast. One day she woke up and could no longer see her feet. She was ashamed to say she cried for an hour about it, before Jaime could calm her down and get her to explain why she was crying. She was infinitely glad he hadn’t laughed or made fun of her. He’d simply held her hand and assured her that she was still beautiful and so was their child.

She travelled to Tarth in her 8th month, since the Storm’s End maester was sure that she was ready to give birth any second.

And he’d been right.

Their two beautiful baby girls were born happy and healthy just shy of 8 and a quarter months. The fact she gave birth to twins shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as it was. After all, twins ran in both of their families, with Jaime and Cersei and Arianne and Alysanne, her sisters.

They debated over names for over a week before they finally settled on Catherine (for Catelyn) and Jeanne (for Joanna).

They were both born with soft, downy blonde hair that was as golden as their father’s and Brienne, Jaime and Selwyn were immediately in love with them.

The twins were the light of their parents’ lives, as well as all that met them. Tarth began to belong to them while they still crawled.

They were spoilt, mostly by their father. He doted on them and as Jeanne grew up, the elder of the two, she became more and more like her father, with the emerald green eyes and tendency to rush in without thought, where Catherine favoured her mother’s side, with her intelligent blue eyes and tendency to weigh every option, almost to the extreme.

They also differed in their choice of hobbies. Catherine was interested in reading and debating, stitching and playing with her dolls. Her aunt Sansa taught her to embroider the sun, stars and lions on her handkerchiefs and soon most of her clothes bore the symbols of her houses.

Jeanne was a tornado of energy, always on the move. She took up the sword, of her own volition, at the age of four and never put it down again. Her aunt Arya taught her fun new ways to fight, every time she sailed past, while her father and mother taught her the traditional knightly ways of fighting.

But despite their differences, the girls were as thick as thieves. They were each other’s best friend and confidant. Their parents could hardly pry them apart.

They had worried, that when their little brother arrived, that they wouldn’t accept him into their twin club. But they needn’t have worried. The girls loved Gallawyn (named for Brienne’s father and brother) from the moment they laid eyes on him. From that moment, the gang of two was a gang of three. It caused their parents no end of frustration, having the three children united against them to lobby for later bedtimes and more playtime. But having their three children so close outweighed the negatives a thousand-fold. It meant when they went travelling, sometimes leaving the children with their grandfather, they knew they wouldn’t be lonely.

She would visit her sister and brother, as Sansa and Tyrion now were, many times over the years, and encourage them to visit too, until their many children made the journey too difficult. Edward, Richard, Brandon and Brianna were the joy of their parents lives and made Winterfell the joyful place it hadn’t been for too many years. They liked to ask their uncle Bran to tell them stories, which he did, because he had so many to share and not just his own.  

Brienne and Jaime also spent a lot of time in the Westerlands, guiding Pod and making sure all was well with the Rock. They had always loved to travel and there was no reason that should change. Pod took to his new roles with a surprising maturity. With Jaime and Tyrion, along with the other monarchs supporting him, the transition was far easier than they ever could’ve hoped. He married Eleyna two months after being crowned and Brienne was pleased to see them so happy.

The kingdoms still had their issues, especially with such young and inexperienced rulers, but they all supported each other, with ravens sent between palaces on a dizzying frequency. Jon and Daenerys hardly spent anytime at Kings Landing, always travelling to the other kingdoms, ensuring peace. Until they had their first and only heir, of course. Prince Johaerys was a surprise to his parents, but a welcome one. As was the birth of a new brood of dragons. Daenerys was overjoyed at having not only her own lineage survive, but that of her winged children. Johaerys learned to fly far too early for anyone’s comfort, but the dragons would never let him fall.

 

* * *

 

Jaime and Brienne had never really felt like they belonged; Always the outsiders. But finally, after all they’d been through, they had found a home. And many other homes, with their allies and friends. There was no threat of White Walkers or of an endless winter. There were no feuding kings or scheming queens. But life wasn't boring. 

Unlike Brienne, who grew up alone and lonely, their children had cousins and friends across the continent. Unlike Jaime, who grew up with the weight of expectations and not many choices, their children were free to chose whatever they wanted to do. They could be anything they wanted and love whoever they wanted. They had freedom. 

Their children grew up surrounded by love and peace.

Jaime and Brienne spent everyday thankful that they despite the struggles and pain, they were where they should be. Together. And they would never be apart again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is it. It started off as a little anger relief and grew into this massive, unwieldy thing. But now it's done. I'm not known for finishing things. I have so many WIP's on my various hard drives throughout the years that have been left to rot, but this one inspired me. Everyone who read, who kudosed, who commented, you all inspired me to write and to finish. Thank you.  
> Also, naming characters is my least favourite thing. I just gave them all boring, normal names, that are still in keeping with the GOT naming scheme. So, forgive me for that.  
> Also, this will probably be fixed, since I'm not 100% happy with the ending. I don't even know anymore.


End file.
